Happenstance in a Prism
by Qian Mausumi
Summary: High School AU. Sokka meets Zuko, the star of the martial arts team, during a match and is immediately intrigued by and attracted to him. But Jet has plans of his own to win Sokka over, and Zuko isn't sure that his family will be pleased with his new friend. ZukoSokka with one-sided JetSokka
1. The Lost Match

**A/N:**  
Hey all! We're a team of two best friends co-writing stories, and all-in-all we're pretty new to writing fanfictions so please read and leave some positive feedback/constructive criticism for us when you're done! Thanks!

–Qian and Mausumi

**Disclaimer:**  
We don't own Avatar: the Last Airbender! We are also not making any money off of our fanfiction works, and we probably never will! As such, this disclaimer applies to this chapter and all chapters to come though we will repeat the disclaimer throughout.

**Warnings:**  
We don't think people should have to be warned when they're about to read queer/LGBT/shounen-ai/yaoi stories, because honestly, if you have to be warned then you probably have some homophobic/heterosexist issues you have to work through on your own time :) Have fun reading!

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**Happenstance in a Prism  
****The Lost Match  
**By Qian Mausumi

"Yeah Zuko, c'mon! _Kick_that guy's ass!" screamed someone from the crowd. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of the teenager's face, collecting at the corner of his jaw, before it fell to the padded floor with a soft splatter. His body shone brightly, naked torso glistening with moisture, reflecting the incandescent lights of the gymnasium. Looking up at the opponent, Zuko planted his feet firmly on the ground, bringing toned arms into an offensive position in front of him, causing defined muscles to ripple with the effort. He was breathing heavily now, still winded and shaking slightly from the harsh blow he took to his side just moments before.

But he was determined to win. It was _absolutely necessary_that he beat his opponent.

Inhaling deeply, Zuko furrowed his brow in concentration, eyes narrowed at the other boy whose breath was disrupted by ragged bursts due to the effort of his attack. He held his stance for a moment, waiting for his opponent to strike again, intent on the kill. A slight shift, and Zuko sprung forth, aiming his fist in the direction of the other teenager's set jaw.

Sokka sighed as he watched Suki's retreating form grow smaller in the distance, eventually disappearing from view as she abruptly turned the corner after twisting her head back and giving Sokka a slight smile. Stuffing his books in his bag and heaving it onto his back, he pushed a stray strand of hair out of his face and used the back of his hand to wipe his lips dry, which had still been wet from the kiss he had shared with Suki just moments ago. Trudging down the hallway, all thoughts of his girlfriend vanished as deafening cheers erupted from the gymnasium to his left. Now curious, he peered into the room, just in time to witness Zuko's quick recovery from another forceful attack.

_He missed_. The boy had dodged his attack at the last second and kicked Zuko in the gut. But using his fall to his advantage, Zuko propelled his body in a circular motion with his arms, flinging his outstretched leg at his opponent's feet, knocking him down.

Sokka watched the fighters' movements with utmost fascination. The two bodies seemed to flow together in ways unlike any normal sort of brawl. Instead of choppy and animalistic motions, these movements were precise and calculated, graceful and dangerous all at the same time.

This was an _art_.

Clearly gaining the upper hand, Zuko paused to look up into the stands, briefly meeting his father's scrutinizing gaze with a cold glare of his own. Azula, his sister, was seated next to their father, one side of her mouth tugged upward in a lopsided smirk, eyes dancing with the usual conniving flame.

_You know what'll happen if you lose . . . Brother_, she mouthed, eyes widening with a slightly maniacal look, head jutting forward to emphasize the last word. A larger, satisfied sneer graced her lips as she folded her arms and sat back in her seat, gazing at her brother unblinkingly.

More than slightly unnerved, Zuko turned back to his opponent, aware that even a moment's distraction could cost him the match.

Sokka noticed this exchange of glances, but didn't think much of it. He was too mesmerized by the match to seriously note the tension between the family members. All of his focus was on _Zuko_, and the more Sokka was drawn in by the match, the more the brunet couldn't help but admire Zuko's fierce stance—assertive, but unassuming. His mouth hung slack with disbelief as he watched the teen begin another onslaught of kicks and punches at his opponent.

He agilely dodged any counter attacks that the opposing teenager threw his way, and after only seconds more of his rapid blows, Zuko felt his opponent slow, the latter's defensive maneuvers now far less effective. Zuko's next few blows were met without resistance. Feeling that victory was near, he diminished the force of his strikes, taking pity on his opponent. But suddenly, the insufferable image of Azula flashed before his eyes. _You're too _soft, _Zuzu. If you want to win, then _crush _the opponent. Make him _suffer . . . Forcing the scene from his thoughts, Zuko disregarded his sister's words, unwilling to inflict needless pain upon the other boy. Even so, he gritted his teeth, preparing his stance to throw his finishing punch. Then . . .

A staggering blow to the head caused him to lose consciousness.

Sokka's already open mouth dropped open even more. The teen had been fighting so effortlessly, with such elegance—but all of that had been wiped away without a trace when Zuko was gracelessly knocked down, falling with a great _THWUMP! _to the padded floor, a lone softball lying at his feet.

Sokka looked up in shock, attempting to locate the cause of Zuko's injury, when a rather boyish-looking girl caught his eye. She looked around the room in a panic, jumped down from the stands, and bolted towards the exit where Sokka stood. Evading the numerous people attempting in vain to seize her, short frizzy hair waving wildly, the girl roughly pushed Sokka aside, nearly knocking him flat on the floor, and continued sprinting down the hallway, eventually turning into the girls' bathroom.

Sokka turned back around to watch the chaotic scene unfold inside the gymnasium.

"Due to unforeseen circumstances, Zuko is no longer able to fight. Therefore, the winner is . . . JET!"

A mixture of boos, hisses, and cheers erupted from the crowd.

Sokka watched as the spectators and other team members began to filter out of the room. The crowd slowly passed him out the door, and every now and then he would receive a puzzled or worried look—Sokka hadn't budged since the end of the match, except for the repeated motion of opening his mouth and closing it, only to open it again and snap it shut once more. To the parting crowd, he looked very much like a fish out of water. He was still stunned by the startling outcome of the fight.

Finally snapping back to reality, Sokka spotted Jet heading off to the boys locker room. Sokka glared for a moment, then hurried after the teen, looking back into the gymnasium just long enough to spot Zuko's motionless body still sprawled out at the center of the padded floor.

Not forgetting his hot pursuit of Jet, Sokka quickly turned around, only to run head-on into the closing locker room door. Furiously rubbing his offended forehead, the brunet kicked open the door, muttering curses under his breath. But Sokka didn't have much time to spare thinking about his throbbing skull, because no sooner had he entered the tiled room, than he heard the smug voices of Jet and his ragtag band echoing off the walls.

"That was great!"

"Yeah, I can't believe we pulled it off!"

"Nice job, Jet!"

Jet smirked, eyes twinkling in obvious pleasure, before raising his hand in order silence the group.

"Hey, I wouldn't have been able to do it without Smellerbee. Where is she, anyway?"

"Jet, this is the _boys' _locker room," said the Duke uncertainly.

Jet snorted, "Like that's ever stopped her before."

As if on cue, Smellerbee tumbled out of the vent located high up on the wall, close to the ceiling, landing squarely on top of Sokka. Blinking twice in order to clear the image of bursting stars from his eyes, the brunet turned his head to find the androgynous-looking girl staring down at him, straddling his middle back with one foot on either side of his body.

"What are _you _doing here?" the girl spat, without making the slightest effort to stand up.

"I should ask you the same question," Sokka grumbled, twisting to disentangle himself from her, and turning over to get into a more dignified sitting position, "This _is _the boys' locker room."

"Like _that's _ever stopped me before," Smellerbee snorted, unknowingly echoing Jet.

Hearing the commotion on the other side of the lockers, Jet swiftly walked over towards Sokka, towering over the other boy who was still seated on the ground.

Jet looked over at the shorter brunet with both brows raised, surprise evident on his face. "So Sokka . . . how'd you like the show?" he inquired, a smirk tugging at his lips. Leaning down slightly, Jet offered his hand to Sokka. Unsure as to whether or not he should accept the polite gesture, Sokka stared at his outstretched arm for a moment, but then hesitantly grabbed Jet's hand and pulled himself up, feeling an intense heat radiate from Jet's bare chest.

Sokka dusted himself off, and glared up at Jet. "That was an awful thing to do. I wouldn't have marked you as the type to stoop so low as to cheat just to win a stupid tournament. You didn't deserve to win that match."

Jet shook his head, his smirk darkening. "_Aside_ from how I ended the fight," he stepped forward, waving his hand dismissively. His face was now mere inches above Sokka's, looking down at him, "did you _enjoy_ yourself, watching the two of us . . . _going at it_? Hm?" Sokka's glare hardened, as a faint blush graced his features. He slowly stepped away from the boy in front of him.

Jet's smirk was still plastered to his face as he stepped forward to bring his body closer to Sokka's once more, emanating heat waves as his unclothed torso came dangerously near the smaller boy's face. "What's wrong? Are you telling me that the sight of us _thrusting_ into each other didn't give you any _pleasure_? That's a shame."

In the background, Smellerbee rolled her eyes, and muttered to her companions, "Oh, god. Here we go again. Jet just can't keep his hands off of the poor kid!" The boys nodded fervently, the Duke adding in a whisper, "Yeah, but when Jet isn't hitting on Sokka, they act pretty friendly towards each other." Smellerbee nodded, agreeing with the Duke's statement, and then motioned for the group to exit the locker room, leaving the other two boys alone.

Sokka watched as the group filed into the hallway, then reverted his gaze back to Jet, staring directly into the taller boy's eyes, gaze unflinching. "I'm tired of repeating myself like a broken record. I'm _not_into you. I have a girlfriend. You know, Suki? I like her a lot."

"So what if you have a girlfriend? She doesn't have to know. But you're lying anyway. You can't hide it from me. You were watching us. I _saw_you watching, with your mouth hanging open, practically drooling all over yourself."

Sokka narrowed his eyes at Jet. "I was just impressed with your match. After all, it was really close, and I'm not so sure you would have won if you hadn't forced Smellerbee to knock Zuko out." Sokka paused, drawing himself up before continuing, "And even if I _was_ drooling, who says that _you_were the one I was drooling over?" he asked coolly, causing Jet's face to color.

"I can't believe you—" the older boy began furiously.

"Save it, Jet. I told you, I don't think of you like that." Sokka shouldered past Jet, making his way towards the exit.

"Wait! Sokka! Come back! I'll back off! I'm sorry!" Jet called after him. Sokka ignored the other boy's pleas however, and throwing the door open, left Jet to stand in the middle of the locker room, staring in shock as the heavy door closed slowly behind Sokka.

_Damnit. That kind of just . . . came out_. Sokka cradled his head in his hands, gripping his hair in frustration. _I wasn't _really_ drooling, I was just impressed with their fight. That's all. It _was_ pretty amazing . . . maybe _I_ should join the martial arts team. Suki would be impressed by that, right?_

Calming down a little after his confrontation with Jet, Sokka walked confidently back towards the gymnasium where he knew a sign-up sheet would be posted on the large cork board hanging just to the left of the door. He didn't know why, but the thought of joining the team caused a warm fluttering sensation to fill his stomach. Sokka smiled and opened the door.

He was about to walk in when he heard a voice coming from inside the room. He paused a moment and peered around the partially opened door to see who was speaking.

The gymnasium was completely empty, save two figures, one male lying spread-eagle on the ground, the other, a girl, hovering menacingly above the former. Sokka identified the boy still lying on the floor. _That must be Zuko, but it's hard to see the girl._Sokka waited.

"Wake up, Zuzu. I don't have time for this." Azula rolled her eyes and kicked freely at Zuko's limp body. "Father is waiting out in the car and if we're late, he will _not_be pleased," she stated, more to herself than to Zuko, who at that moment moved just slightly, slowly coming back into consciousness.

Azula perked up at that. "Oh good, you're back." She smiled tauntingly down at Zuko, her arms folded across her chest.

"Ugh . . . what happened?" Zuko groaned and tried to sit up, but a sharp pain coursed through his body with almost every movement. He opted for lying back down. Zuko looked up at Azula and asked, still slightly delusional, "What am I doing on the floor? Where is everyone?" His head was throbbing.

"Oh, Zuzu." Azula sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face while still holding an air of arrogance and superiority. "I pity you. You lost the tournament, and Father is positively _fuming_." Her eyes looked down at him with a glint of amusement. "The crowd has long since departed after your _atrocious_defeat."

"Azula, how did I lose?" His brow furrowed in confusion. "I was—I was so close to winning, how could I have possibly _failed_?" Zuko snarled. His voice rose with every word until he was practically shouting at Azula, and by the end of his outburst he was sitting bolt upright, scowling directly into Azula's belittling stare.

Shaking her head, she examined her nails and responded to Zuko's fit in a matter-of-fact tone. "Tsk, tsk Brother. You were knocked out by a cheap softball, of all things. I can't believe you would dishonor us by falling to the likes of that, Zuzu. Pitiful."

". . . And Father is angry?" Zuko looked to the floor awaiting Azula's response.

"Oh yes my dear Brother, Father is _more _than just angry. He is _outraged _at your defeat." She paused to let her words sink in a smirk playing on her lips. "I fear what will become of you once Father is through with his punishment, whatever it may be."

Sokka looked on with a mixture of intrigue and fear. This was by far the most violent family interaction he had ever seen in his life. He could _never_imagine himself in that situation with Katara verbally abusing him or vice versa for that matter. The brunet shook his head. Not wanting this discussion between Zuko and his younger sister to continue, Sokka obnoxiously entered the room, hoping that any and all sounds he made would alert the two to his presence.

It worked.

Azula's head snapped up in agitation, eyes now focusing on the cause of the disturbance, and her expression darkened as a glower fixed upon her face, clearly displeased. Azula quickly straightened herself into a more dignified posture. Feeling the gross intensity of her stare, Sokka's eyes widened and he held his breath, not moving in the slightest as she walked stiffly passed him out of the room, glaring daggers at Sokka on her way out.

Once the startling girl's footsteps could no longer be heard stomping down the hallway, Sokka exhaled noisily, bringing a hand to his forehead. "I thought she was going to kill me!" He breathed with relief.

Zuko watched the boy's antics for a second and then quickly began to stand up, ignoring the pain in his head and the dizzy feeling he got from moving too fast.

Hearing his groans of pain, Sokka hesitantly interjected "W-wait. You probably shouldn't be moving like that. You were knocked out cold for a while, I don't think it'd be smart to get up just—Hey are you listening to me?"

Too caught up in his current goal to stand upright without passing out again, Zuko ignored the boy who was, at that point, flailing his arms wildly through the air motioning for him to stop moving.

"Or don't listen to me." Sokka sighed in defeat and looked up at the boy who was now slowly making his way towards him in long, confident strides.

Stopping abruptly before reaching the other boy, Zuko stared at Sokka, who continued to unconsciously wave his hands about his head in a vain attempt to stop the older teen from moving, evidently perplexed.

"What are you _doing_?"

Sokka felt an unfamiliar swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach as he let his arms fall limply to his sides. "I was, uh . . . well, you really shouldn't be moving around, like I said before."

Zuko raised one eyebrow. "And why do _you_ care?" He scoffed incredulously, and turning his head to the side, looked away from Sokka at the gym floor. "You don't even _know _me. You saw my sister, didn't you? For _sixteen years _we've lived in the same house together. And _she _cares more about her nail beds than she cares about me," Zuko finished bitterly, tearing his eyes away from the foam-covered ground to look at Sokka dead in the eye.

Sokka's heart leapt into his throat as the other boy's eyes locked onto his own. "Well I . . . you seem like a nice guy, and I don't think you deserve to pull a muscle or something from moving too much in your state."

Zuko raised his eyebrow once again. "Pull a muscle? I was knocked _unconscious_."

"Hey!" Sokka started to argue, flustered, his voice cracking as he spoke louder, and began to gesture enthusiastically with his hands as if they would help him prove his point. "It could happen!"

Zuko continued gazing at Sokka, a brief flicker of mirth illuminating his golden eyes before fading away, the smallest of smiles unwillingly tugging at the corners of his lips. He motioned towards the bleachers. "Well if you were so concerned, why didn't you just tell me to sit down?" Zuko asked, the faintest amount of amusement coloring his voice.

"Well, then, let's sit down!" Sokka responded promptly, purposefully striding towards the bleachers and plopping himself down in the first row of seats before looking at Zuko intently. "Well, what're you waiting for? The only reason I sat down was for _you_."

Slightly bemused, not knowing why he was bothering to humor the younger boy, and fully aware that his father would be even more furious due to his late arrival, Zuko made his way to the stands and sat down next to Sokka.

"Is this better? I'm not exerting myself anymore," the fair-skinned boy said, amusement still alight in his voice, as he turned his body in order to properly face Sokka.

"Yeah," Sokka responded briefly, turning his head away so that the other boy wouldn't notice the heat rushing to his face. "It is." Valiantly attempting to regain his composure, he turned towards Zuko, and introduced himself. "I'm Sokka, by the way. In the junior class." He held out his hand for the other boy to shake.

Zuko glanced at the hand tentatively, then firmly grasped it, and looked up to stare Sokka straight in the eyes. "Zuko. I—"

"You don't need to introduce yourself. Everyone knows who _you _are. Zuko, the cool and aloof heartthrob who makes the girls go crazy without even trying," Sokka gazed back at Zuko, his hand still being tightly held by the other boy.

"Did you just call me a _heartthrob_?" Zuko asked, bewildered.

Realization dawning on him, Sokka panicked and blurted out, "What? I—uh . . . n-no! That's just . . . what my sister always says! Yeah! Eh-heh . . ." Noticing that he was still holding hands with the other boy, Sokka yanked his arm from Zuko's grip, and looking away once more, blushed furiously.

"Right." Struggling to switch the subject, Zuko asked, "So what grade is your sister in?"

The redness coloring his face receding, Sokka turned to face the older boy once more, before responding, "Tenth. She's fifteen. She seems to have a thing for senior guys. Like you and Jet."

Something in Zuko's face tautened. "Interesting. So both of our sisters are in the same grade." His voice sounded slightly constricted, as if he was suppressing anger.

Thoroughly wishing that he had not brought up the subject of Jet, Sokka continued on, "Yeah. They're sort of rivals. Both of them model students, competing for the teachers' attention. You know how it is, right."

Zuko laughed bitterly. "Yeah. Except I'm sure _your_sister doesn't use a combination of intimidation and manipulation to get what she wants."

Sokka mentally smacked himself in the forehead. This conversation was _not_going where he wanted it to go. Changing the subject, he asked, "So how do you like being on the martial arts team? I'm thinking of joining."

Zuko looked surprised at this, and while surveying Sokka's body, responded, "Yeah. But you have to be prepared for a _lot_of hard work. So what style do you fight?"

"Um . . . well, I've tried tai chi before, but I never really got into it. My sister's amazing at it, though." Sokka looked down, feeling foolish at his lack of experience compared to the seeming demigod sitting next to him. "What about you?"

"Northern Shaolin style kung fu. But you _do_know how difficult it'll be for you to start as a total beginner don't you? Are you sure you want to do this?"

Sokka nodded assuredly. "Of course."

Zuko smiled slightly. "I admire your resolve," he said, causing Sokka's cheeks to turn faintly pink.

"How cute."

Both Zuko and Sokka looked up simultaneously. Azula stood across the room from them, arms folded across her chest, eyes twinkling with a malicious glee. "So, Zuzu, you seem to have made a new friend. How unlike you."

"What do you _want_, Azula?" Zuko enquired, though he already knew the answer.

"You're _late_, Zuzu. Father is _most_ displeased. You _know_that he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Well, then tell him I'm coming. I'll be out shortly."

Azula's eyes narrowed in obvious displeasure. "I'm _not _your little messenger. I said, Father is _waiting._ Now _come_with me."

"And I said that I'd be out _shortly_," Zuko fired back, getting riled up, "I'm not ready to leave right away."

Azula's eyes flashed towards Sokka, glinting with a malevolent light that caused shivers to run down his spine. "You shouldn't put . . . _that_," she began, nodding in Sokka's direction, "of higher importance than matters concerning our family. I'm surprised at you, Zuko. I thought family meant more to you than this."

As Azula exited the gymnasium, Zuko let out a long sigh. "I should go." He stood up, before continuing, "It was nice meeting you."

He had already turned around and started walking towards the exit when Sokka stood up and called out, "Wait!" Running up to him, he said "Shouldn't you get something to wear? You can't go outside without a shirt on! It's freezing, you might get sick! Where is your shirt anyway?"

For the first time throughout their entire conversation, Zuko smiled. Not a small, slight smile affecting just the lips, but a real, full smile that extended to his eyes and transformed his whole appearance. "It's in the locker room, but I don't have time to get it. I don't know what'll happen if my father has to wait any longer."

"But you can't go outside like that!" Sokka protested, "Here . . ." He unzipped the blue hooded sweatshirt he was wearing, revealing a long-sleeved t-shirt worn underneath a short-sleeved shirt with the buttons undone on top of it. Sokka held the sweatshirt out to Zuko. "It might be a little small, but at least it'll keep you warm."

Staring at the clothing for a second before accepting it, Zuko said jokingly, eyes twinkling with happiness, "You know, girls are always trying to get me to walk around shirtless. But you're here trying to get me to put on this sweatshirt." Zuko pulled the blue hoodie around his bare shoulders, and then zipped it up, looking at Sokka thankfully.

"Well, I'm not a girl," Sokka responded very matter-of-factly.

"No," said Zuko, sounding almost regretful, "you're not."

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**A/N:**  
Right-o so hopefully you won't think that you've just wasted your life after reading that. Mausumi and I hope you liked the story and there are many more chapters to come! (we're already working on the second) So R&R!

Thanks! Xie Xie! Dhanyavaad! o.0;;


	2. The Jasmine Dragon

**Disclaimer:  
**We do not own _Avatar: The Last Airbender_, nor are we profiting off of this fanfiction in anyway!

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**Happenstance in a Prism  
****The Jasmine Dragon  
**By Qian Mausumi

Sokka held his breath as he watched Zuko exit the gymnasium. His heart was pounding and his stomach was doing cartwheels. No one except Suki had ever had _that_ kind of effect on him. _Especially _not a guy. He stayed seated on the bench, his elbows resting on his knees, hands supporting his head. The brunet stared hard at the floor for some time, trying to suppress the grin that was ready to break through. He bit his lip.

_Beep, beep, beep! _Sokka looked at his watch. "Ah 3:30? Shit, Katara must be waiting for me!" Sokka jumped up and stumbled out the door, ran through the hallways, and to the front of the building where Katara and Toph stood glaring at Sokka.

Katara tapped her foot, hands on her hips. "Where were you! We've been waiting for over half an hour!"

Panting, he looked up at the two girls and smiled sheepishly. "Uh . . . sorry, I got a little er . . . sidetracked . . ."

"Oh yeah _sure_ just a _little_ sidetracked _that's it_." Toph rolled her eyes.

"Wait! Now that's not fair! I _did_get sidetracked, and I'll have you know that I actually signed myself up for the martial arts team!" Sokka announced proudly.

_Silence_. The two girls looked up at him stunned and then simultaneously burst out laughing.

"Haha Sokka, that's a good one!" Toph yelled, clutching her stomach.

"Yeah, don't you remember when Gran Gran tried teaching us Tai Chi? You moved like such an oaf!"

"Hey, shut up!" Sokka scowled. "Now while I may not have been as good as you were, I wasn't _that_bad at Tai Chi."

"Oh yes you were, you just couldn't see yourself! Gran Gran looked like she was about to have a heart attack!" A new wave of laughter filled the two younger girls, leaving Sokka to stand there staring at them angrily.

Sokka huffed. "Katara, she always looks like that!" He sighed, then gave in. "C'mon, let's just go home."

He turned to leave, letting the heavy school doors slam shut behind him, and he didn't stop even when he could hear the doors being opened with a soft suction and a squeak.

Two forms swiftly rushed to his sides, matching their paces with his, and ignored his all-too-obvious agitation. The smaller began whistling.

"So anyway," Katara continued, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face, "I want to stop off at that new café in town before we go home, they're having their grand opening today." She looked at Sokka who, she noted peering at his slouched demeanour out of the corner of her eye, was still moping. A grin tugged at her lips. "C'mon Sokka, I _know_ you're going to like it! There might even be _free food_!"

At this, her brother's ears perked up and his blue eyes brightened in unmistakable glee. His eyes and mouth began to water at the mere thought of the delectable treats flirting with his taste buds, the ones that were to accompany the warm, _sweet_drinks that were soon to be sliding down his throat and into his stomach.

He practically giggled in delight.

Sokka was just about to break into a full-on sprint towards town when Katara spotted his antics and quickly grabbed the neck of his shirt, choking him.

"Woahhh, there. _Easy_, Brother. Remember, we still have to wait for Aang."

Sokka calmed down a little and looking around replied, "Oh yeah where is the little pipsqueak anyway?"

"Oh, we don't have to wait for him. Twinkle toes didn't show up in school today . . . Probably caught that stomach flu that's been going around." Toph stated.

Katara made a face. "Eurgh, I hope he's alright." She looked worried.

Sokka began walking down the street towards the general vicinity of town, head turned back over his shoulder to converse with the two girls.

"Ah don't worry Katara, I'm sure he's fine; that kid always manages to bounce ba—"

_Clank!_

"Oww . . ." Sokka looked dazed and rubbed at the red bump forming on the side of his skull, just above his temple.

"Sokka!" Katara gasped and rushed forward to tend to her brother while internally rolling her eyes at his clumsiness. At this rate they were _never_going to make it to the café.

A snorting sound erupted suddenly from the youngest of the three, startling the two siblings.

"HA-haha! Hey Katara, he really _does_ move like an oaf! Honestly, are you _blind_? Only a _retard_could manage to walk straight into a lamppost!" [1]

At those words, Sokka glared pointedly at Toph. "Great, thanks! Can't you see that I'm _hurt_here?" But that only increased her laughter.

A shiver worked its way through Sokka's slouched form as he continued scowling at the raven-haired girl, now practically in tears from laughing so hard. Katara shook her head at the two and carefully helped Sokka up off the concrete, but even Katara couldn't help letting a small giggle escape her lips. Standing up quickly, the icy chill once again caused Sokka's body to tremble. _Geez, it's cold. Maybe I should have kept my hoodie for myself . . . Ugh._

Katara, tightly gripping her brother's shoulders, felt his tremors and looked worriedly at the boy. He wasn't wearing his jacket.

"Sokka, you're freezing! What happened to your sweatshirt? Gran Gran told us it would be cold out today; didn't you listen?" she chided, then added disapprovingly, "You didn't _lose_it did you?" A slender brown eyebrow raised itself questioningly.

"N-no! I didn't lose it. Katara, you're confusing me with Aang. _He's_the irresponsible one!"

"Then tell me, what happened to it? Hm?" she asked, her tone sceptical.

"I—uh I . . . I think I left it in the gym, and it's probably locked up by now . . ." A pale blush spread across his cheeks, but if Katara noticed, she didn't mention anything of it. She just sighed.

Toph grunted in frustration. "Fine then, stupid, lets just hurry up and get to that café before it gets dark. I don't care if you get sick, but I'm getting hungry!" With that, the young girl started down the street towards town. The other two followed suit, heading down the path as the sky slowly darkened with the approaching night.

* * *

The silence was unbearable.

Zuko sat in his father's car, arms folded across his chest, sweatshirt sleeves several inches too short for him and riding up his wrists. He listened to the monotonous hum of the engine as he stared idly through the window, rays of sunshine streaming through the glass.

_The calm before the storm_, he thought bitterly, dreading the violent eruption awaiting him the minute he stepped into the house. Sighing and deciding not dwell upon his father's imminent anger, Zuko's thoughts turned to the event that had just passed in the gym.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, replaying the conversation in his head.

Why'd he give me his sweatshirt, anyway? I don't even know him . . . Not that I'm complaining though . . . it kind of smells nice.

Lifting his hand and reaching back behind his head, Zuko grabbed the hood of the sweatshirt and pulled it over his face, leaning against the strap of the seatbelt for support as he dozed off. Next to him in the backseat, Azula glanced at her brother, a satisfied smirk gracing her lips. Her eyes twinkled with a sadistic pleasure as she met her father's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

Zuko opened his eyes as he felt the car roll to a stop in front of the familiar black gates leading up to his family's manor. He gazed wearily at his father, watching as he lifted his arm and pressed the button on the roof of the car, causing the gates to open slowly, admitting them inside the property. Once parked inside the garage, Zuko opened the car door and slammed it behind him, making his way inside the house, his sister and father following closely behind.

"Azula, go to your room. I need to _discuss_ some things with your _brother_," said Zuko's father, laying a careful stress upon the last word, lacing it with malice.

_Shit. _Zuko stopped his ascent towards his room and climbed down the stairs. His heart pounded in his chest.

"Yes, father," Azula responded dutifully, before shooting Zuko a well practiced look of spite. Azula's eyes, flashing with malice, narrowed threateningly at him. Just one look from her sent shivers down Zuko's spine. She shouldered past him and made her way towards the staircase, black bangs waving at the sides of her face.

Zuko did his best to ignore his sister, as he turned to his father, allowing him time to gather himself before exploding.

"You've dishonoured the family."

Zuko inwardly rolled his eyes. That was what his father said every time he failed to comply with his wishes.

"I'm sorry, father. It won't happen again."

A malevolent glint appeared in his father's eyes. "No. It _won't_ happen again. _Ever_. Do you know why, Zuko?"

Zuko shook his head slowly, a fearful apprehension growing in his mind, gnawing at his insides. "No, father."

"I'll tell you. But first . . . _why _didn't you win the match? Failure is _not_acceptable."

"I—You saw the match! I was knocked out by someone in the stands! I would've won if that didn't happen," Zuko burst out angrily, realizing a second too late that what he had said was a mistake.

"'_Would _have' isn't good enough, Zuko. The fact that you did_ not _win is what has brought shame upon our family. But you will _not_dishonour this family again."

"Of course not, father," Zuko responded, suppressing his rage as best he could.

"I'll make sure of it. Because if you do, you won't be a _part _of this family any longer. Just like your _dear_mother."

Zuko's face coloured violently, and struggling to keep his voice steady, asked "Wh-what do you mean? Mother died . . ."

His father smirked. "I _mean_ that you will be forcefully _ejected_from this household, with nothing but the clothes on your back."

"I'll go live with Uncle Iroh."

"Iroh? He's only got a few years of life left in him. And after he dies? What will happen to you then? Where will you go? Nobody would take _you_ in, a frightening, _disfigured_ boy as yourself. I fear the fate that awaits you is _identical_to your mother's." His father's smirk became more pronounced as Zuko flushed and brought his hand to his face, tracing the outline of his scar with one finger.

"What the _fuck_did you do to mother?" Zuko snarled, filled with an insuppressible rage.

His father shook his head slowly, sneering. "It doesn't even matter. The point is . . . she's no longer with us. So unless you want the same to happen to you, you _will_ do as I say, and you will _not_ do anything that dishonours our family. And you would do well to temper that tongue of yours, unless you want me to throw you out of this house _now_."

Zuko's entire body shook with an unsurpassed fury, and biting back a vicious retort, turned on his heel and strode towards the front door of his house, leaving his father standing behind him, still wearing the same malicious sneer upon his face.

Zuko turned the corner towards the front door, only to run face-to-face with Azula. From the satisfied smirk on her face, it couldn't have been clearer that she had heard every word of the argument.

"Poor, _poor_, Zuzu. You—"

"Shut it, Azula. I don't want to hear it." With that, Zuko shouldered past his sister, and made his way to the front door, opening it violently and slamming it behind him.

Azula followed him with her eyes, watching her brother through the glass as her brother opened and closed the gate, walking through it towards the sidewalk and down the street.

"Lock the door, Azula. And tell one of the maids to bolt the gate as well. Zuko can sleep on the streets tonight."

"Yes, father," responded Azula as she turned the lock on the door, "Does this mean that you've decided to disinherit Zuko?"

"Not yet. I'll allow him to return tomorrow," her father stated calmly, "but if he makes one more mistake, he won't be a part of our family any longer."

Azula turned away from her father and resumed her previous act of looking through the glass of the door. Her smirk widened as she whispered to herself under her breath.

"Excellent."

* * *

Zuko stomped angrily down the sidewalk, glaring intensely at each passer-by who, upon noticing his burning stare, hesitated before moving to the other side of the street. After some time his rage subsided and his hurried pace slowed to a mere trudge. He let out a heavy sigh.

_Father's always favoured Azula over me. He's always wanted _her_ to follow in his footsteps, inherit the family business and family fortune. Now I'll have nothing_. . . _One more screw-up and it's over for me_.

Looking up into the golden light of the setting sun, Zuko found that he had reached his destination, and with an outstretched arm, he knocked three times on the door in front of him. Zuko stepped back and waited for the door to open. It remained closed. He began to knock again, this time rapping harder on the wood, and calling out.

"Uncle?" he began, pausing before continuing, "Uncle Iroh!"

No answer.

Sighing, Zuko turned around and walked to the front entrance of the house, which had been converted into his uncle's new café, the Jasmine Dragon.

_Great. Uncle's probably swamped with work. It is the café's Grand Opening after all _. . . Opening the glass door, Zuko was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer number of people inside the café. It was quite literally _packed _with customers. Spotting his uncle, the brunet weaved his way around the tightly clustered tables.

"Uncle!"

"Zuko, my nephew, it's good to see you. I could sure use a hand now. As you can see, the café's been a huge success!" Iroh chuckled lightly.

"Um, Uncle . . . I didn't come here to help run the café, I wanted to talk to you about my father."

Iroh gave his nephew a stern look. "Zuko, we'll have plenty of time to talk later, but right now, we have many customers to serve! There's a spare employee uniform in the back, so just put it on and start taking people's orders. In the mean time I'll fetch you a cup of my special Qi Gong Tea of Serenity to calm your nerves."

"Uncle, wait! I don't need any calming tea!" Even after hearing his nephew's words, Iroh exited the room to prepare a cup of tea. Zuko sighed and followed his uncle into the kitchen where his eyes fell upon the green worker's kimono hanging on the wall.

"You mean I have to wear _that_?" asked Zuko incredulously, gesturing to the uniform.

"Of course, Zuko. It's the employee uniform _and_a symbol of your heritage. Plus, it's nicer than that sweatshirt you're wearing now. It looks like you've outgrown it two years ago! Doesn't your father buy you any new clothes?"

"He does . . ." Zuko responded, going slightly red in the face. "This sweatshirt is just . . . special to me."

"All right, all right, well hurry up and change into the uniform, Zuko. We're very busy! Oh and here's your tea, now drink up!" With that Iroh exited the kitchen. Zuko sighed and unzipped his sweatshirt, placing it on the counter. Taking the kimono off of the hook on the wall he slowly shrugged it on over his naked chest, letting the ends hang just barely touching the floor. Zuko then left the kitchen, entering the body of the café to attend to the waiting customers. His cup of tea lay on the kitchen counter, forgotten.

Finding his uncle taking orders, Zuko purposefully strode towards him. "Uncle, what should I do now?" he demanded, now frustrated by the ridiculous outfit he was being forced to wear.

"Hmm . . ." Iroh paused, surveying the café before continuing, "Why don't you go tend to the three customers that have just arrived? Be sure to put on a happy face!"

"Yeah, right . . ." Zuko said uncertainly, as he began to approach the customers at the door. But he stopped dead in his tracks when he realized just _who_the customers were.

* * *

"Katara! Toph! Come on, hurry up! I'm hungry!" Sokka called out to his two companions, who both sighed and sped up slightly to match the brunet's pace.

"Sokka, you're _always_ hungry. Have you even _thought_of anything other than food in the last twenty minutes?" Katara asked, rolling her eyes.

"Yes . . ."

"You can _think_?" asked Toph in a serious tone of voice.

"Yes, I can!" Sokka responded hotly.

"Then what is it, Sokka? I know that_ food_ is the only thing that goes through _your_mind," stated Katara very matter-of-factly.

"No, it's not," Sokka began, blushing slightly. _Zuko! I've been thinking of Zuko!_"I've, uh . . . been thinking of . . . uh school!"

Toph snorted. "Yeah, right. And _I've_ been thinking that you're a . . . Big. Fat. _Liar_."

Katara looked at the red on Sokka's face, and misinterpreting it as anger, intervened before Sokka could respond. "It doesn't even matter. Look, we're here! The Jasmine Dragon Café. Come on, let's just get inside and order something to eat before Sokka _starves_to death." Tugging at Sokka's shirt, Katara led the trio inside the café, where they waited to be seated.

"Katara, look! It's your _boyfriend_," Toph drawled.

"My boyfriend? Toph, _what _are you talking abou—Oh my god. It's _him_." Katara stared straight ahead of her, mouth hanging slightly open.

"Who?" Sokka asked, confused. Following his sister's line of sight, Sokka's eyes fell upon the object of his fixation.

_Zuko._

Blushing more furiously than he ever had before, Sokka locked eyes with the boy in front of him, who gazed back with an ardent intensity, feet seemingly glued to the floor.

"Toph, Sokka, come on. We're getting out of here," Katara stated, with a note of finality in her voice that made clear that she did _not _want to be argued with.

"Ok, listen here, sugar queen. We're staying. Why don't you just _go _up to him, and tell him that you like him?" suggested Toph.

"_Sugar queen?_" Katara shook her head, clearly stressed by the situation, before she continued, "Toph, I don't _like_him; I don't feel anything for him at all. He's a complete jerk."

"What!" Sokka yelped, outraged, broken free from his trance by his sister's offensive statement, "He is _not_!"

Katara rounded on Sokka, eyes narrowed in contempt. "Yes, he is! Don't you remember how badly he used to bully Aang? I can't easily forgive him for _that._"

Sokka rolled his eyes. "Katara, that was like three years ago. He's a _really _nice guy." _Among other things_. . . He thought, still blushing.

Raising an eyebrow, Katara quipped, "Sokka, you're acting like you have a cru—mrph!"

Toph's hand covered her friend's mouth. "Shh, Katara, he's coming this way! Do you want him to hear you talking about him?"

The trio turned towards Zuko, who was making his way towards them.

"Hi," he began, looking mortified, "Uh, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. Table for three? Please follow me to be seated," he blurted out rather awkwardly.

"I didn't know you worked here . . ." Sokka said as they walked towards their table, attempting to make conversation while looking about the bustling café.  
"Um, yeah. Why else do think I'd be wearing . . . _this_? My uncle owns the place," the taller boy responded looking slightly more at ease with the situation. "Come on."

Turning around, Zuko led the group to a table near the window. Sokka's eyes fell upon the gentle curve of the other boy's backside before he snapped them upwards again as the fair-skinned boy turned around.

"Here's your table," said Zuko, pulling out a chair and motioning for someone to sit down. Sokka immediately pushed past his two companions and sat down in the chair.

"Thanks," he said, smiling at Zuko, who cautiously returned the smile as he pulled out chairs for both Katara and Toph.

"No problem."

Taking a deep breath to further relax the fluttering sensation in his gut, Zuko placed three menus on the small round table, "Here are the menus. We serve tea, which is our specialty, as well as coffee and some snacks. Just call me when you're ready to order."

The three friends nodded in response and opened their menus, taking a look at their contents. Though, instead of drinking in the sweet descriptions of each delectable item listed on the paper, Sokka quietly peered over the top of his carte, stealing glances at the stoic boy. He watched as Zuko walked hurriedly into the kitchen and then was shoved back out into the dining area by an old man. All the while, Sokka quietly wondered if it really was a blush that he saw caressing Zuko's cheeks as he exited the kitchen, or if it was simply his imagination.

After seating the three companions, Zuko all but ran into the kitchen, frantically searching for the cup of _calming tea_that his uncle had brewed for him just minutes before. Spotting it on the counter, he picked it up and gulped down the now frigid concoction.

"Uncle! I need some more of that calming tea!" Zuko choked out.

"Oh, so you liked it then? My nephew, I'm afraid that you are too late. I've just delivered the last of it to a customer! Everyone seems to really enjoy that special brew." Iroh chuckled heartily. Zuko on the other hand did not take this news too well.

"What? But Uncle! I—"

"Don't worry Zuko. Another shipment will be here tomorrow! You may have some then," Iroh inserted calmly, "But anyway, what are you doing back here? You need to attend to the customers! They are all waiting to be served! Go, get out there." With that he pushed Zuko towards the door, slipping a notepad and pen in the boy's hand before he left.

_Ugh, he's so useless whenever I really need him . . ._Zuko practically fumed, his cheeks a faint pink from frustration. He once again entered the main room and began seating other customers.

Every now and then he would feel the prickling sensation of someone's eyes on him and he would shiver, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. And every time he blushingly looked around to find the culprit, his gaze always landed on Sokka, but he only ever looked over in time to see the tanned boy avert his gaze towards the menu.

"Mm, the _Hung Gar Rock Slide Cake_sounds really good! What are you going to get Katara?" asked Toph, her eyes still fixated on the menu.

"I'm not sure . . . I can't decide between Ganga's Purifying Herbal Tea and Qi Gong Tea of Serenity. They all sound so good!" replied Katara cheerily. She then looked over at the third member of their party. "Sokka, what do you think you're going to order?" The girl gave him a light nudge, noticing the dazed expression on her brother's face.

Snapping out of his reverie, Sokka shook his head and looked down at his menu, eyebrows furrowed. "Uhh . . . I haven't really decided yet." _Oops . . . well at least _he_ didn't catch my staring._

"Haha, yeah I know," she chuckled, "It was really hard for me to narrow it down to only two! I still haven't picked which one I really want either," Katara stated, not sounded the least bit surprised by Sokka's response. "Oh, but you better choose one soon! Zuko's coming back."

_Ahh, shit_. He looked up, locking eyes with the older boy's striking, golden eyes. Sokka swallowed hard.

"Are you ready to order?"

Katara looked down at her menu. "Yeah. I'll get the Qi Gong Tea of Serenity, please."

"Okay, the Qi—oh wait, we've run out of that tea. Sorry." Zuko replied, eyebrow twitching slightly.

"Oh well, then I'll have the Ganga's Purifying Herbal Tea."

Zuko quickly jotted down Katara's order on his notepad. "Right. What about you?"

"I want the Hung Gar Rock Slide Cake," declared Toph, while playing with the spoon on the table.

"Alright . . . And you, Sokka?" Zuko looked up at the boy whose face was currently buried in the crook of the menu.

"Uhm," Sokka paused and stared up at Zuko, "Could I have the Eyes on Heaven Tea?"

Zuko flushed upon hearing the name of Sokka's desired tea. He held his gaze for a moment then proceeded to mark down the brunet's order. At that same moment Sokka realized exactly what he had just said and he too, coloured violently and stared intently at a small stain on the tablecloth.

"Uh y-yeah, sure. I'll be right back with your orders." Zuko walked as quickly as he could towards the kitchen, throwing the door open wide and disappearing from view.

"_That,_" Sokka breathed, "was awkward."

"Yeah, it was. How'd he even know your name anyway?"

"Oh, well we spoke today when I went to sign up for the martial arts team." He shrugged, eyes still on the table, hoping the other two wouldn't interrogate any further.

* * *

"Aw, man, seven o'clock already? My parents are gonna _kill _me if I'm not home before dinner," Toph groaned as she slouched in her chair, patting her stomach contentedly.

"Oh yeah, we should probably get going, it's kind of late . . ." At those words, Katara and Toph stood up and began putting on their jackets. Pausing, arm halfway in her right sleeve, Katara looked down questioningly at Sokka, who remained seated, hands encircling his cup holding the remains of his tea.

"Hey slowpoke, you coming?"

Sokka waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, I think I'll stay awhile. I'm in no hurry . . ."

"Alright, just remember to call Gran-Gran if you're going to be really late so she doesn't forget and lock you out of the house by accident. Like she did that time you went out with Suki! You came back so late we had all gone to bed without you and you had to sleep outside at the bus stop!" Katara shook her head and rolled her eyes as she finished wrapping her blue scarf around her neck.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Katara! See you all later!"

The bells jingled as the two girls exited the café, leaving their companion to stare at his cup of tea.

Sokka let out a heavy sigh, slumping slightly in his chair. The place was almost empty by now and he could see Zuko furiously scrubbing at one spot on the table in the corner of the room. He's been cleaning that one spot for a long time . . . Sokka mused. Oh well, as long as it keeps him away from here. I've been blushing like a freaking schoolgirl. Talk about embarrassing . . .

Sokka looked up just in time to see Zuko approaching him, looking weary as he sighed slightly.

Shit. Speak of the devil . . .

Not wanting to be caught ogling the other boy, Sokka quickly turned his gaze back to the teacup while keeping a watch on Zuko out of the corner of his eye. As the dark-skinned boy inhaled deeply to soothe his tumultuous insides, he was horrified to see the object of his thoughts pulling out a chair at the table, sitting down next to him.

"Hey," said Zuko, smiling slightly as he scooted his chair closer to the edge of the table.

"Hi," offered Sokka rather lamely, unsure of how to strike up conversation. He glanced up at Zuko for a moment before promptly returning to study his cup of tea intently, lost in the embarrassing moment that had passed between them some time ago.

"So did you like the tea?" asked Zuko, eyeing the other boy and wondering what was wrong with him.

"What?" Sokka jerked out of his reverie, dazed.

"Your Eyes on Heaven."

With his pupils focused upon the fair-skinned boy, Sokka picked up his teacup and drained the last drops of liquid still stubbornly clinging to the rim.

"Yes."

Zuko gazed back at the other boy unflinchingly, unable to tear his eyes away. "Okay . . . well, that's good . . ." he trailed off, unsure of what to say. "Oh!" the raven haired boy cried with sudden realization, "I have your sweatshirt!"

"Oh—uh, all right," Sokka replied, inwardly berating himself for causing such an awkward situation and making the older teen uncomfortable. "Thanks."

"No problem." Zuko rose and turned towards the kitchen, giving him time to calm down and think of something to say next. Grabbing the hoodie once he had entered the double doors, the fair-skinned boy turned back around and headed to his seat beside Sokka's.

"Here," started Zuko as he thrust his arm in the direction of the other boy, sweatshirt clutched tightly in his hand, "Sorry, I didn't have time to wash it . . ." he finished, an apologetic look forming upon his face.

Sokka smiled. _Sweet. It probably smells like him. _"That's okay, I'll just wash it when I get home." _Or not_. Sokka's cheeks coloured slightly, embarrassed by the nature of his thoughts. He took the article of clothing from Zuko's fingers, refraining (with difficulty) from bringing it to his face and inhaling the other boy's scent.

"Thanks again for letting me borrow it," said Zuko, evidently trying to keep the conversation going now that they had started talking, "I would've been really cold without it."

"Well, I didn't want you to get sick going outside without a shirt on." _Though my kindness _did _come at a high price . . . covering up Zuko's gorgeous bo—_NO! _Come on Sokka, what are you thinking? You really have to stop these perverted thoughts. And stop ogling him! The poor guy's bound to notice. _Sokka mentally sighed, at war with himself.

"But weren't _you _cold when you were walking here?" asked Zuko, genuinely concerned about the younger boy's well-being, and feeling slightly guilty that he himself had caused the dark-skinned boy physical discomfort.

"Just a little," Sokka replied, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally, "At least I had another shirt on. And besides, judging from what your sister said, it didn't exactly sound like you were going to have a celebration when you got home. I didn't want you to feel miserable _and_ cold on top of all of _that_."

Zuko stared at the other boy for a second, unfamiliar emotions erupting within him. He was completely taken aback by Sokka's compassion and willingness to sacrifice his own comfort for the sake of others. Wanting to express his deepest gratitude towards the dark-skinned boy, Zuko opened his mouth to speak, yet somehow, words failed him.

". . . Thanks." He tried to insert as much sincerity and appreciation into the lone word as he possibly could, hoping, but fearing that it wouldn't suffice to express the depth and complexity of his feelings.

The grin that flashed across Sokka's face was all the reassurance Zuko needed. An estranged warmth spread through his heart, causing him to unhesitatingly return the smile—the second _real _smile, he noted, that had graced his lips that day.

* * *

"Bye, Toph!"

"Catch ya later, Sugarqueen," shouted Toph in return. Katara rolled her eyes and waved as the younger girl turned and disappeared behind the impressive double doors of her family's mansion.

Sighing slightly, Katara continued her walk towards the next district where her house was located. The wind had begun to pick up and she shivered slightly as a patch of bare flesh came into contact with the brisk autumn air. Hastily, she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. _I wonder why Sokka wanted to stay at the café_, Katara thought. Loneliness began to sink in as soon as she noticed her brother's absence. Despite this, Katara merely pursed her lips and picked up her pace; she hoped to get home as quickly as possible and perhaps drink some hot cocoa by the cosy fire. Gusts of wind continued to whirl about the girl, causing her to shiver again, this time more violently.

She had just about reached the lamppost that marked the halfway point between Toph's house and her own when something in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Katara slowly turned her head to the right.

"Hey, Katara," said Jet smoothly. She raised her eyebrows in obvious surprise. The boy had just seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Hi, Jet," she replied. A cute blush graced her features as she saw the brunet smile at her. Then, feeling curious, she asked, "What're you doing here?"

"Oh, I was just . . . in the area, that's all," Jet paused to gauge Katara's reaction, then confident of the situation, he continued, "And since I'm here, do you mind if I walk you home?"

A slight smile crossed the girl's face as she blushed profusely.

"Yes!" Katara beamed at the charming boy in front of her before the expression slid off of her face the very moment she realized what she had said.

"I mean, no! No, of course I don't mind!" she blurted quickly.

"All right, all right," Jet chuckled as he held out his hand to Katara. "I'll walk you home."

If it was possible, Katara's blush deepened as she took the proffered hand in hers and started down the street side-by-side with the other boy.

"So Katara," Jet began self-assuredly as he slipped his fingers through the girl's in order to interlace their hands, "Did you catch any of my match this afternoon?"

"Your match? Oh no, I'm _really_sorry, Jet. I was waiting for my brother to come and meet me so that we could head home together." A deeply apologetic look formed on Katara's face. "But I bet you were great, weren't you?"

Jet let out an easy laugh and ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair, raising his chin and tilting his head slightly backwards so that the wind swept through the loose strands. "Yeah, I was pretty awesome. But you still could've come and seen me. Sokka was there."

"He was?" asked Katara, looking bewildered before comprehension dawned upon her, "Oh, that's right. He was there to sign up for the martial arts team."

Jet's brow furrowed as he shot Katara a quizzical look, losing a bit of his collected demeanor in the process. "Sokka signed up for the team? He didn't mention that to me today . . ." He turned his face away from Katara, gazing at the cement of the sidewalk with a pensive look.

"Oh, so you met him after your match? What did he think about it?"

Jet grinned at the girl beside him, his air of confidence returning in full force. "He thought I was amazing. He was practically drooling when he saw me. I don't blame him, I mean, who wouldn't?

Katara inwardly giggled. _Yeah, Jet _is _pretty drool-_worthy_, though I'm sure he's exaggerating about Sokka. But still, Jet is just so . . . _hot!_ Especially without a shirt on . . . all those muscles!_  
"Sokka _drooled_?" asked Katara with one hand cupped a centimetre from her mouth in order to hide her amused smile.

"Yeah, he was really impressed with my _skills_," commented Jet provocatively, smirking slightly.

"I'm sure he was," Katara replied, missing the ulterior connotations to the other boy's statement, "It's hard _not_ to be impressed, you're such a _great_martial artist. Who were you up against today, anyway?"

"Zuko."

The blue-eyed girl turned to her escort in astonishment. "Wow, Jet! That's incredible! He's ranked in the nation! And to think that you taught yourself how to fight . . . you're just so _talented_!" _Shoot, _she thought to herself,_ I missed the perfect opportunity to see Jet _and_ Zuko without their shirts on. Sweating. Muscles glistening in the light. Though Zuko _is_ a big jerk . . . but still, he'd be fun to watch._

"Yeah, I know I am."

Katara giggled, gracefully covering her mouth with her hand once more and moving closer to the boy next to her so that she could rest her head upon his shoulder as they walked. "Jet?"

"Yeah, Katara?"

"I'm a little bit worried about Sokka joining the martial arts team . . . he doesn't really have much experience. Do you think that you could—you could watch out for him maybe? You know, make sure he doesn't get hurt and give him a few tips?" Katara took her head off of Jet's shoulder and looked at him apprehensively, biting her lower lip in obvious anxiety over the well-being of her brother.

Jet chuckled deeply, grinning down at the girl beside him. "Katara, right when you mentioned that Sokka was joining the team I was already planning to _watch_ him very closely and give him my _big tip_. . . that will really help him."

"Jet, you're such a _good guy_," said Katara, once again missing the glaring innuendo of the other boy's words.

"I try."

Katara smiled at Jet before she realized where she was, and she quickly pointed towards the house ahead of her. "That's where I live."

The pair made their way towards the house and paused once they reached the front door. Katara looked up at Jet shyly, her head tilted slightly downwards. "Thanks for walking me home . . ."

Jet shrugged. "I had time to squeeze you into my busy schedule. But maybe we should make this a regular thing."

"Yeah, maybe we should," said Katara as she blushed and turned to open the door. Jet, however, was holding fast to her hand, not permitting her to leave just yet. "Yes?" she asked, turning back around.

". . . It's nothing," Jet responded, staring at the girl opposite him dead in the eye while slowly raising their clasped hands upwards. Jet bent his head slightly and pressed his lips to Katara's hand, still holding eye contact.

He took his time pulling away, and when he finally did, there was a small twinkle in his eye. "Good night, Katara."

Hyperventilating and completely speechless, Katara felt a strong sensation of giddiness rise from her stomach and into her heart. She spent a few more moments simply staring at Jet before remembering that she had to say something.

"Good night . . . Jet."

* * *

Warm laughter echoed throughout the café. Sokka's eyes filled with tears as he continued, "And then he, and then, _Aang_, burst out laughing, spewing his chocolate milkshake all over himself _and_the old lady sitting next to him! It was hilarious!"

He looked up at Zuko, eyes still brimming with mirth. The taller boy smiled weakly back at him.

"That's . . . funny . . ." said Zuko in a brave attempt to sound genuinely amused. He waited a moment for Sokka's laughter to subside before allowing the smile playing on his lips to slip away in relief.

"Wheww, that kid . . ." started Sokka, shaking his head slowly while rolling his eyes. "He's always been so clueless about _everything_."

Zuko shifted uncomfortably in his seat and let out a small breath. "Y-yeah?" he offered, fighting to keep his voice even.

The dark-skinned teen nodded enthusiastically as the residual smile from his last fit of laughter grew more apparent. "Yeah, I remember this one time he . . ."

Forgotten scenes from the past flashed through Zuko's mind. His eyebrows knit closer together with each passing memory; his ears were no longer able to hear the words issuing from the other boy's mouth.

Aang. Azula. Father . . . Azula . . .

The pictures zoomed past his mind's eye faster now, his pupils focused intently upon Sokka's moving lips as if they would speak words of comfort to him. His fingers began to clench into a fist, the muscles in his arm flexed, his entire _body_tensed—seizing up, until—

"Are you okay?" asked Sokka, reaching an arm out to grip the raven-haired teen's shoulder.  
He relaxed at once.

"Y-Yeah. I'm fine." Zuko looked back at the other boy, his chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath.

Sokka eyed his companion suspiciously. "Oh. Okay." He stared at Zuko for a few more seconds before a sudden recollection struck him. The blue-eyed teen bit his lip, deciding how to most sensitively phrase his next question.

"Didn't you used to _bully _him?"

"Who?"

"Aang."

The image of flames erupted in Zuko's mind. Clenching his fist, he stamped out the memory and focused on the present.

"That was a long time ago," the fair-skinned boy said evasively as he unconsciously perused the scar over his left eye.

"And . . ." Sokka prodded, leaning over the edge of the table

"And . . . what?" asked Zuko, though he knew perfectly well what the other boy was about to ask. His heart beat faster in anticipation.

"Why did you used to bully Aang?

Zuko observed Sokka's expression, taking his time before responding. Normally, the raven-haired boy would have bristled at what he would have taken to be an offensively intrusive question, but for some reason, he remained quite placid.

"It's complicated," he answered, knowing full well that this response would do nothing to satisfy the other boy's curiosity.

Sokka gazed back evenly at the taller boy, intrigued by his reaction to the simple question. "So?"

"It's a long story," Zuko maintained, still unwilling to impart any information to the other boy, yet amazingly, still allowing the conversation to continue.

"Well, we have time." The dark-skinned boy smiled. He lifted his arms from his sides, and placing them on Zuko's shoulders, leaned in closer to the other boy's face. "We're friends, right? You can tell me. I won't judge you, I promise." Sokka smiled again, and squeezed the raven-haired teen's shoulders reassuringly before returning his hands to his sides.  
_Friends._ The word stuck in Zuko's mind, but all he could do was nod dumbly. _Friends_.

"Yeah," he said finally, finding his voice. "Well I _didn't_bully him."

"But my sister—"

"Is mistaken." Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Let me start from the beginning . . . Aang and I used to be friends. Good friends. But Azula had always been jealous of me, ever since we were young children, _especially_ because of my close relationship with our mother. Azula constantly vied for her attention. On the other hand, she didn't need to worry about Father; she was daddy's little girl after all. My father. He favoured Azula over me for her strong will and her blunt cruelty that was evident in her personality even when she had been just a baby. It didn't help that everything always came easy to her either. When my mother was alive, she could keep her under control, and so Azula, out of jealousy, could never do anything _serious_to me. But when my mother passed away—what little protection I received from her vanished. From then on, no matter what the dilemma, Azula always won. My father adores her and ensured that, no matter what, she would have her way. My father says 'she was born lucky.' He says I was lucky to be born. A constant reminder of how I've failed him as a son.

"Anyway, when Azula discovered what a strong friendship I had with Aang, she sought to destroy it. Any and all bonds reminiscent of the one I had with Mother were and soon ripped apart and dismantled right before my eyes. She intimidated my friends into staying away from me—manipulated them so that they hated me." Zuko shook his head bitterly. "She had such a coercive tongue, and Father _supported_ her. He forbade me to talk to Aang. The lame reason he gave was simply that Aang was _beneath_someone of my social standing."

Sokka sat back in his chair, shocked. "And you agreed to stop being friends with him, just like that?"

The fair-skinned teen looked down at the table. "I was young. I had no choice."

The tanned boy waited for further elaboration, but none came. Unable to bear the sight of Zuko looking so dejected, and feeling guilty that he had caused it, Sokka rose from his chair and walked around to the other side of the table where the raven-haired boy was seated.

Zuko looked up in surprise. "What're you doing?"

Sokka did not answer immediately, but instead, sat down in a chair next to other boy's and scooted so that there were mere centimetres between the two seats. He blushed as he placed an arm around the older boy's shoulder.

"I just want you to know," he began in a low voice, "that your sister doesn't scare me. She can't intimidate _or _manipulate me. I'll stick by you no matter what she does."

Zuko gazed steadily at the heated look in Sokka's eye and tentatively raised his arm to wrap it around the other teen's shoulder. The two remained in that position for several moments; no words were exchanged between them.

Zuko blinked.

He had the _strangest_ feeling that Sokka wanted to, and was about to . . . about to _kiss_him. But he was sure he imagined it, for the next thing he knew, the tanned boy was taking his arm off of his shoulder and standing up. Zuko's eyebrows furrowed.

"It's getting late, I'd better go. But I just wanted to say . . . I'm glad I met you."

"Yeah . . . me too," Zuko said softly as he stood up.

The two teenagers gazed at each other, unsure of how to say goodbye.

Cautiously, the raven-haired teen held out his hand. Sokka looked at the outstretched arm for a second, grinned, seized it, and yanked the other boy into a quick one-armed hug.

"I'll see you around," he called as he strode off to the door.

"Yeah . . . see you."

Zuko barely registered the jingle of the door chimes as he was left to ponder the implications of his new—dare he call it—_friendship_.

"Well, that's the last of them!" Iroh chuckled heartily, giving his nephew an affectionate pat on the back. "Good work, Zuko."

"Thank you, Uncle," Zuko replied, pleased. They had just finished wiping down the floor and stacking the chairs; the Jasmine Dragon Café was closed for the night. The two climbed a flight of stairs at the back of the building that lead to Iroh's loft.

"Here is your room for tonight. I've laid out the futon for you." Iroh gave his nephew on last look before exiting the room.

Zuko nodded and slowly stripped himself of his uniform and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. He sighed heavily and sat down cross-legged on his futon, taking in of the décor of his uncle's guest bedroom. It was small with simple furnishings. Tatami mats concealed the hardwood floor and a lone desk sat in the corner. A medium sized bonsai tree and several stones were the only sort of decoration evident in the guest room.

Reappearing suddenly, Uncle reminded his nephew that the bath was ready. He looked at Zuko and smiled. "Good night, my nephew. Sleep well. You have another long day ahead of you." He turned to leave, but then in sudden remembrance added, "Don't worry about your father. Ozai's always had a bad temper, even when he and I were young children." At this, Iroh chuckled. "He'll come around though." Zuko stared at his wall for a moment, soaking up his uncle's words, before heading towards the bathroom. Quickly, the boy washed his body and his hair to prepare himself for the bath. The water flowed in rivulets down the teen's toned body. Shutting off the water, Zuko stepped into the tub. [2]

_Today was a good day._ Thought Zuko suddenly. _Well, save my interaction with Father_ . . .  
The steaming water soothed his muscles as he slid further below its surface. Breathing a sigh of pleasure, Zuko leaned his head back against the bath's edge, perfectly content. It seemed that the longer he soaked in the tub, the higher his spirits grew and the less insistent his tribulations became. _It's as if I'm soaking away my troubles_. The boy reflected, mildly bitter about the situation. _I could never get this kind of relaxation in my own home_. He closed his eyes.

Perfect blue eyes materialized before his consciousness.

_Sokka. There's something about him—something that makes me feel . . . Safe. Yes, safe and _comfortable_. I know that I don't have to be perfect around him. I can be _myself_ for once._

His entire body, excluding his eyes and nose, was now submerged in the water. The raven-haired boy blew bubbles in the water and wiggled his toes, glaring all the while. Knowing his sister, Azula, this _friendship_—this, well whatever it was that had begun to develop between him and the tanned boy would be painfully short-lived. It was a wonder how easily she could dispel anyone remotely important to him from his life.

"Fuck . . ." he breathed, running a wet hand through his obsidian locks. With two shakes of the head and a sigh, Zuko closed his eyes again, revisiting the day's events. A smile caught Zuko's lips as he recalled Sokka's animated gestures, the way the tanned boy's cheeks flushed destroying his every attempt to appear nonchalant . . . how his mouth curled into a lopsided grin at anything even mildly amusing, azure eyes forever alight with a strange sarcastic charm. He was different from the others. Aang had been too timid, too _weak_ as they say, to endure Azula's intimidating stare and her malevolent grin. Sure, the silly boy had only been a kid then, but Zuko had believed him capable of at the least, _ignoring _Azula. The raven haired boy shook his head. He had been sorely mistaken. But, but _Sokka_, on the other hand. Now _he_,Zuko knew, could endure, could perhaps change him—give him that necessary confidence to never, _ever_submit to his father or his sister again. Hell, the tanned boy had already penetrated his mental blockade, his fiery wall whose sole purpose was to prevent Zuko from becoming close to people.

And it had only been one day.

A chuckle escaped his lips. For the last time that night, as he sat in the now lukewarm bath water, Zuko shook his head twice and looked towards the ceiling.

He smiled.

_Maybe this time would be different._

* * *

**A/N:**  
Good day, my lovely readers! On behalf of Qian and myself, I apologize profusely for the insanely long time we took to update. Qian and I are victims of the terrible International Baccalaureate program, which ensures that we have absolutely no free time (a note from Qian to our American readers: Don't do the IB program! It won't help you with your college apps because the colleges won't even see that you got the IB diploma when you apply! It's just as good to take all AP classes-which also allows you more academic freedom). On top of that, college applications are a bitch! If it helps any, this chapter is over twice as long as the last, unfortunately, we can't promise that chapter three will come out any time soon because of our work. However, reviews encourage us to write faster (We love using this fic as a means to procrastinate)! So please, after you finish reading, give us any comments or constructive criticism you have to offer! Thank you!

-Mausumi

P.S. Thank you everyone who reviewed our last chapter! We love you all!

[1] For the sake of political correctness please note that we, the authors of this work of fiction, do not mean to offend anyone who may know someone who has disabilities, mental or physical, to any extent. We too have friends with siblings who have disabilities and we mean them no harm! And oh, yeah. Toph isn't blind in this fic.

[2] In Japan, the bath isn't used for bathing but rather for soaking and soothing one's muscles. Also, everyone in the family is supposed to use the same bath water and if people didn't wash themselves before they got into the bath, that water would get really gross really fast. We hope that clears up any confusion as to why Zuko showers before he gets into the tub.


	3. The First Practice

**Disclaimer:  
**We do not own _Avatar: The Last Airbender_, nor are we making any money off this fanfiction.

**A/N:  
**Wow . . . it's been A LONG TIME since we've had the privilege of greeting all our readers! We are extremely sorry for our absence the past . . . FIVE YEARS since we published the first two chapters. University got in the way, and in the past four years, Mausumi has perfected the art of neuroscience research papers and lab reports, while Qian primarily worked on history and political science papers. AND GUESS WHAT! Those writing skills and habits don't exactly translate well to creative expression. We had to write and rewrite so many of the scenes in this chapter just to make it sound relatively normal, and not robotic.

More to the point of this note, once again, we are sorry for abandoning you, and we are happy to announce that we are back with no foreseeable plans on leaving you all hanging again! So please, R&R (read & review—constructive criticism would be awesome BECAUSE I'M SURE WE NEED IT, and please do let us know if you particularly enjoyed any aspects of the story or our writing). Enjoy!

-Qian and Mausumi

* * *

**Happenstance in a Prism  
****The First Practice  
**By Qian Mausumi

Sokka burst into his room, panting after having run home all the way from the café. With his blue sweatshirt clutched tightly to his chest, the tanned boy flopped down onto the bed, which creaked in protest. He buried his face into the cloth of the sweatshirt and took several deep breaths, enjoying the foreign aroma that mingled so harmoniously with his own scent. A grin spread over his face as he continued to nuzzle the fabric.

_Zuko._

He just couldn't stop thinking about him—scenes of their encounter in the café replayed themselves over and over again in Sokka's mind. How Zuko had looked so surprised and yet pleased when Sokka mentioned the word "friends", or how at ease the he was with Sokka's lingering touches and heated gaze, or how he didn't move away when Sokka's lips drew closer to his, ready to . . .

Sokka shook his head to clear his mind of these thoughts. It wouldn't do to get ahead of himself—after all, Zuko had given no indication that he was interested in him as more than just a friend. It was definitely a good thing he had stopped himself from kissing the other boy; there was no telling what the consequences might have been.

But still . . . what if Sokka had kissed him? And more importantly, what if Zuko liked it?

That would be paradise.

The two of them, their mouths engaged in a passionate, sensual tango; their lips providing the frame for the dance, increasing and decreasing the pressure rhythmically; their tongues caressing one another with raw emotion . . .

One kiss could lead to so much more—a date, maybe? Or possibly, a relationship? Perhaps he, Sokka, would be the one to break that icy exterior. Perhaps he would be the one to whom Zuko could open up, to whom Zuko could pour out his heart . . .

Boyfriends . . . with Zuko? Now he was getting ahead of himself.

But still, wouldn't that be wonder—

_Suki._

Shit. _Shit._ What the hell was he thinking? Didn't he have a girlfriend? Just this afternoon, didn't he tell Jet how happy he was with her? With Suki?

He was happy with her . . . wasn't he? They talked, they laughed, they joked, and they kissed each other good-bye. They didn't fight.

They were the perfect couple.

Though . . . he never got this kind of feeling when he thought about Suki. His heart never raced, his stomach never did flips, his face was never a permanent shade of red from blushing so much . . .

It was Zuko. Only Zuko did this to him. And he had only known him for one day.

But what about Suki? Would it be fair to her if he constantly thought about someone else while on a date with her? Or if, when they kissed, he imagined kissing Zuko instead? Could he really continue indefinitely in a relationship like that?

But then . . . what if this infatuation was just a phase?

Sokka's heart leapt in protest at the thought, but his rational mind couldn't ignore the consideration. What if this _was_ just a phase? After all, he had only just met the boy this afternoon. Hell, he hadn't even known he could feel this way about a guy until today!

And, he realized with a pang, what were the chances that Zuko even liked boys?

Well, according to some studies, approximately one in ten . . .

Sokka shook his head, dismissing the thought. A closer estimate would be slim to none. After all, he himself had never thought that he'd want to be in a relationship with another boy until today. He didn't want to get his hopes up and be devastated when he finally grasped that he would be denied his heart's desire.

But still . . . the thought of being Zuko's boyfriend . . .

Was it really worth throwing away his relationship with Suki to seek a new one with someone who might not ever reciprocate his feelings?

His mind screamed two different answers.

One part of him responded with a firm yes—_You never know if don't try! You may find even greater happiness. _

Yet the other countered with an unequivocal no—_You could ruin both relationships: the one you already have, and the one you want to pursue_.

The blue-eyed boy cradled his head in his heads; he had to compromise if he wanted to keep his sanity.

He'd wait to see if Zuko could ever return his feelings, then he'd break it off with Suki. If it turned out that Zuko didn't like boys, then Sokka could still continue with his current relationship.

_But still_, insisted his conscience, _it's dishonest and completely unfair to Suki if you're trying to get someone else while you're still with her._

Sokka groaned his frustration. Was there no solution? Though perhaps—he could wait a few days, make sure he really _did_ like Zuko, and that this wasn't just a phase, then break up with Suki? His only hope was that Suki would take it well . . . he still wanted to be friends with her, after all.

The best way to do it would probably just be to tell her straight up what his feelings were—honesty was the best policy, right? He could just tell her he met this guy and suddenly fell really hard for him, and wanted to be with him, and that was why they couldn't be together anymore.

. . . Even in his head, it sounded bad.

Well, maybe honesty wasn't the best way to go about breaking up with Suki. He could stretch the truth a little. Or a lot. He could tell her that he had had this sudden revelation that he was gay and couldn't think of girls in any way other than as friends.

But Suki knew he liked girls—the full two years he had dated her were a testament to that fact.

But what to do? He had to think of something if he wanted to keep Suki's friendship.

Sokka crawled under the covers of his bed and buried his head in a pillow. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Several days had passed since Zuko had last seen Sokka. He contemplated the bare walls of his bedroom while he mulled over his newfound "friendship," as he tentatively labeled it. It was Sunday and he hadn't seen much of the tanned boy since last Tuesday when they had hung out at the Jasmine Dragon. Sure, they'd passed each other in the hallway and flashed each other an acknowledging smile, but they hadn't actually partaken in a true conversation.

Zuko had watched Sokka and the boy's friends from his seat in the back of the cafeteria, wanting to gather the courage to join the table, but knowing full well that his new friend's companions wouldn't be pleased with his sudden presence. All because he "bullied" Aang . . . but they wouldn't understand that it wasn't his fault, would they?

_Why do things have to be so damned difficult! _Zuko groaned in frustration and punched the wall leaving a rather visible dent in the plaster._ Fuck!_

Just to add insult to injury, Azula chose that precise moment to grace her brother with her presence.

"Hello, Brother," she began, as she leaned casually against the door frame of Zuko's bedroom "tomorrow's the big day—the day all the new members join the martial arts team."

_Including Sokka . . ._

"So? What do you want, Azula?" he spat. Knowing his sister, she was bound to use this time to humiliate and demoralize him. Zuko's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Ah, there it was, that smirk that quickly revealed itself, that absolutely cavalier attitude he knew would be followed by some antagonistic comment.

"Oh, I don't know, Zuzu. I just was wondering what will you do if a mere newbie were to trounce you?"

"Azula, leave me alone. I won't be beaten."

"I wouldn't be too sure, Brother. With the sorry way you've been fighting lately, I wouldn't be surprised at all if you're defeated by an underclassman," she smirked at him, golden eyes narrowing dangerously before she averted her gaze to inspect her cat-like nails.

"That wasn't my fault, Azula, and you know it! Jet fucking cheated!"

"Yes, yes," she waved her hand dismissively, sneer still plastered across her face, "but you know, it's all the same in Father's eyes." With that, the raven-haired girl exited the room, leaving Zuko alone with his thoughts of the upcoming day.

* * *

It was Monday, and Sokka had made up his mind to break the news to Suki.

He let out a nervous breath and ran his hand through his hair, picking up his tray from the counter and walking towards the table where Suki was sitting. How was he going to do this? What if she didn't accept him and the newfound emotions that were welling up inside of him? Seeing Sokka's approaching form, Suki smiled, beckoning her boyfriend to sit next to her. No one was at the table yet, Sokka noted with relief, so their conversation would still be somewhat private even in such a public setting.

When Sokka sat down the brunette nudged him playfully in the side, and in between spoonfuls of pudding she stated cheerily, "So I heard from Katara that you've decided to join the martial arts team. Is that what you went to do after I left school a few days ago? Weren't they having some sort of intra-club tournament?" She looked up to find her boyfriend completely absorbed in his sandwich.

"Sokka?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I was just thinking . . . " the boy muttered his apology, then after shaking his head, continued. "Yeah, I did join the team and actually I have my first practice today after school. I'm kind of nervous, ha. . . ha."

Suki smiled brightly at that. "As well you should be! No offense, Sokka, but I remember the last time you tried to show me your martial art skills, and they were rather—well . . . sub-par." The girl gave him a smile before affectionately ruffling his hair.

"Um, Suki, speaking of the martial arts team—I kind of want to talk to you about something . . . "

"Oh? What is it?"

"I, well, I—you know on Tuesday I . . . " he trailed off. _You see, when I went to watch the martial arts tournament, I met Zuko and I think I have a crush on him, so I can't go out with you anymore._ Oh jeez. That sounded bad. No, beyond bad. He couldn't say that! How could he explain the situation to her without coming across like a complete asshole?

"Um. So, after you left, I caught the last match of the martial arts tournament between Jet and Zuko. It was really cool which is why I decided to join, and um, after the match, I talked to Zuko—you know him right?" The brunet paused to mentally register Suki nodding before he took a deep breath and continued.

"Well, after his match we sat around talking for a while. And then later that day, I met up with him by coincidence when Katara and Toph dragged me to that, um, that new café . . . what's it called?"

"The Jasmine Dragon?" Suki offered politely.

"Yeah! That's it. Well we hung out then too—he works there, you know. His uncle's the owner of the store and, crap what was I—oh yeah, um, so we hung out and got to know each other a bit which was cool, but that's not what I want to say . . . "

He stared pointedly at the table. "I—Suki, I think I might have feelings for him. Eheh." His brows knitted in apology, Sokka hesitated before daring to look up for Suki's reaction.

He didn't recall Suki's eyes being that big before.

"You mean, you think you like him? You like Zuko?"

"Y-eah . . . "

There was an awkward pause during which Sokka couldn't help thinking of just how much he wanted to sink into his chair and disappear.

Suki took a few thoughtful sips of her soda before exclaiming, "Woo, well if that isn't a shocker then I don't know what is!" And then from her lips emerged the most unabashed laugh that Sokka had ever heard in his life.

_What?_

Sokka's brows furrowed in confusion. "Wa-wait. You're not . . . upset?"

Again, the brunette laughed. "No! Well, I mean maybe a little, but I'm really happy for you. Plus, you dumping me for Zuko means that I have a gay best friend now!" Delight danced in her eyes as she took another sip of her soda.

_Is she insane?_ "Jeez, could you be any louder? And just because I might . . . like him doesn't mean that I'm gay! I was, am—I mean, I still think you're attractive." He watched in surprise as his now ex-girlfriend began to giggle madly. _I really don't understand her._

He waited for her to stop laughing before reiterating, "So, I'm not gay."

"Yeah, yeah. Gay—bi, same thing. Either way, we can talk about what guys are hot and all that."

"Suki, I'm not a different person! Besides, Zuko's the only guy I find attractive," he stated defensively before muttering, "And here I was getting all worried about how you'd take it."

"Really? You should know that it's every girl's dream to have a gay best friend!"

"How should I know that?" Sokka practically choked at her exclamation. "I'm not a girl!"

Completely ignoring Sokka's response, Suki announced, "Oh! I know what we can do! We can dress you up all pretty—makeup and everything. That'd be pretty hot, don't you think Sokka?"

"Suki!"

* * *

"Alright, everyone, listen up!" the coach of the martial arts team began, "every year, as all of you know, we accept new members to our team. Many other sports teams at Republic High have a similar try-out process by which they accept their new members. However, unlike those _other_ sports teams, as the 1st Place Winners of the Mixed Martial Arts Tri-State Championship now seven years running, our team accepts only the best," The coach stared hard at the new members. "And I do mean _the best_."

Zuko watched Sokka gulp nervously as he took in the coach's every word.

"So!" The coach clapped his hands together and paced across the room, "For the next two weeks, all newcomers will be paired with experienced members who will help train and mentor them into strong and able competitors for our team. At the end of the two weeks, we will see who has made the cut off through a fun, but tough tournament. Those who haven't passed the test will be forced to quit the team."

As the coach droned on, Zuko's golden eyes wandered towards the center of the gym where Sokka sat amidst the rest of the wide-eyed newcomers. A tiny smirk tug at the corner of his lips as he watched the tanned boy squirm in his seat. This would be fun.

He couldn't let the other boy be kicked off the team. He _had_ to stay. Especially if he was going to become . . . friends with him. This would be a good opportunity, right?A stern look came over his face as he stared across the gymnasium at the brown haired boy. His body tensed as his mind reflected back on his conversation with Azula. _"What will you do if a mere newbie were to trounce you?"_ echoed in the back of his consciousness. Zuko massaged the back of his neck and tried to relax. Even if Sokka were to become his competition for number one on the team, which, frankly, for all the years he had trained, Zuko thought was doubtful, he thought it would be worth it just to have someone to trust and confide in again. Right?

The coach finished his lecture and gestured for members to partner up. _Sokka. _He shook his head again. That was it. He had to pair up with him. He began to stride across the room to meet Sokka.

Zuko would be the one to train him.

Just as he was about to tap Sokka on the shoulder, Jet appeared out of nowhere, causing the fair-skinned boy to freeze. That split-second pause in his gait allowed just enough time for Jet to snake his way in front of Sokka, sling his arm around his shoulder, and steer the blue-eyed boy clear in the opposite direction, away from the raven-haired boy. Mouth agape, Zuko watched as Sokka gave what looked like a consent to partnership sealed by a nod, a firm shake of the hand, and—

—a slap on the ass?

Zuko raised an eyebrow. What was _that_ about? Why would Jet spank Sokka? Was it some kind of display of male camaraderie? Clearly, he was missing something. Having resigned to the fact that he would not be partners with Sokka, Zuko sighed. _Well . . . at least I know that I can trust Jet to bring Sokka's martial arts skill level up to the team's standards. Now to find my own partner._

* * *

"All right, Sokka. Now remember what I told you," Jet drawled as he paced in a circle around Sokka, allowing his eyes to linger on the boy's lithe figure, "the most important thing to keep in mind is your stance. Without a good stance your balance is thrown off. And if that happens, your opponent will have won the match before it's even started." Jet stopped pacing and positioned himself directly in front of Sokka, smirking as he locked eyes with the other boy.

"Now throw a punch at me."

It had only been fifteen minutes into the training and Jet was already impressed. Sokka had grasped the basic techniques and understood the fundamental concepts faster than anyone he had seen before.

_Brains and beauty._

As the other boy launched his fist towards him, Jet couldn't help but admire the smooth, tan skin to which the fist was connected, the toned muscle of that forearm flexing with the effort of the punch, the creamy, silken look of his slender, yet well-defined bice—WHAM!

Jet heaved as he doubled over, his arms wrapped around his middle in a vain attempt to suppress the oncoming pain.

"Jet!" yelped Sokka with a panicked look on his face, "I didn't—I didn't mean to—I mean, I thought you were going to block—I-I'm sorry, I didn't think—Hey, wait!" A smug look of realization dawned on Sokka's face. "I must be a natural, huh? But seriously, are you okay?" Sokka ended his blabbering by putting a comforting hand on Jet's shoulder and looking down concernedly at him.

With his hand still covering his solar plexus, Jet gingerly straightened his body. His effort to appear nonchalant was somewhat marred by the fact that he was wincing slightly.

He snorted and shook his head. "Don't worry your pretty little head, Sokka. I did that on purpose."

Sokka raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, Sokka," Jet began, his swaggering charm in full force, "give me more credit than that. Don't you see? I sacrificed myself and my own well-being for you. So that you could learn and see first-hand what the consequences are when you let your guard down. Don't tell me my sacrifice was for nothing." He paused and sighed dramatically. "Was it, Sokka? Was it really for nothing?"

The blue-eyed teen rolled his eyes. "I got it, Jet. Never let my guard down. Happy?"

The other boy smirked in satisfaction. "Of course. It's my job to make sure you make it past this trial period. And if you keep up the good work, you'll beat out the rest of the competition hands down."

It wasn't a lie. Sokka really was good for having just started. Jet gave the rest of the room a quick once-over, and as expected, was greeted by hordes upon hordes of fumbling newbies displaying poor footing, hesitant punches, and wobbly kicks.

None of them looked like Sokka when he had delivered his gut-busting punch, many of them visibly struggling to remember and apply the techniques being taught to them.

"Really?" he asked, obviously pleased with the compliment. "Thanks, Jet! Well I guess I have to admit that you are a good teacher. You've really surprised me."

Jet smirked and clapped a hand against the other boy's back. It was true. Sokka had executed the strike with confidence, even skill—more characteristic of a seasoned veteran than a beginner such as himself.

Saying that the blue-eyed teen would be at the top of the competition could hardly even be called a stretching of the truth, the older boy told himself.

And if telling Sokka so just so happened to land Jet into his pants, then there was all the more reason to keep encouraging the boy. He'd surprise the kid with more than just his teaching skills.

"So Sokka," he began confidently, taking advantage of the other boy's good mood. "I heard a rumor about you."

"A rumor? About me?"

"Yeah, that's right. The real reason you've decided to try out for the martial arts team."

Jet watched as a quizzical look crossed Sokka's face and his eyes darted to the right before returning to look at Jet. _Interesting. _"What'd you hear?"

"I heard you joined the team because . . . " Jet paused for dramatic effect.

"Because what?"

"Because you have the hots for—" Jet paused again, distracted by the way Sokka held his lower lip between his teeth as his gaze, once again, darted quickly to the right. "—Me." Jet finished, smirking devilishly as he licked his lips in a slow, suggestive manner.

Sokka rolled his eyes. "Jet, you're full of shit! Let's just focus on the fighting and the fact that _you_ have the hots for_ me_, and not the other way around."

"Now, now, now. I'm not so sure of that. Don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been looking at me, Sokka, watching my every move. You just can't get enough of me, can you?

"I just . . . "

"Come on, let me in on the big secret. Why the sudden interest in joining the team?"

"Well . . . I just—I really want people to be impressed by me. I want . . . certain people to notice me, you know?"

There it was again. That quick flicker of Sokka's eyes to the right. Only this time it wasn't so much as a quick flicker as a flat-out stare.

Taking advantage of the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity, Jet followed the other boy's line of sight, finding that he was merely gazing upon—

Zuko.

Immediately, Jet saw red. The meaning of Sokka's last statement was not lost on him.

Sokka had joined the martial arts team for the sole purpose of being noticed by and impressing . . . Zuko?

And what about himself? Hadn't he, Jet, always expressed his admiration of Sokka? He was always complimenting him about something or the other, be it his looks or his intelligence. Sure, some of his compliments might have come off as a bit coarse, but their meaning was clear enough.

What did Zuko have that he didn't?

Zuko was, he grudgingly admitted, quite good-looking. Jet himself had frequently taken to admiring his muscular body and ruggedly handsome face in the locker room when nobody was watching. But both of those qualities were at least equally present in Jet, if he may say so himself. Zuko certainly didn't possess the charm that Jet had, as evidenced by the fact that the kid pretty much kept to himself most of the time. But maybe Sokka was attracted to the loner type. If that were true, the mysterious scar over Zuko's left eye probably didn't hurt his chances with Sokka.

But whatever the case, it was crucial that Jet assert his claim over the boy, to ensure that Sokka would be his, and his alone.

"All right Sokka," Jet began, acknowledging the other boy with a nod. "Now that you've got the basics down, I'm going to show something a little more advanced. You think you're ready?"

"I guess so, if you think I am," Sokka replied, his voice unsure with anticipation.

"All right, it'll be tricky at first, so make sure you watch carefully." Jet glanced at the other boy, immediately setting his jaw in anger. Again? Sokka's eyes had drifted to the right again, presumably to gaze upon his precious Zuko.

"Watch _me_ carefully, Sokka."

The blue-eyed teen snapped his eyes back to Jet, his face sheepish.

Satisfied, the older boy turned so that his back was facing Sokka. "Now, I want you to pay special attention to what I'm doing with my hips. And not just because you're wondering what they can do in bed." Jet smirked and thrust his hips back and forth a few times as Sokka rolled his eyes.

"All right, well here goes." And with that, Jet leapt into the air, his body twisting as his leg flew out in a swift, sharp kick to the side.

He landed lightly on the balls of his feet and turned to face Sokka. "Well? Did you notice anything?"

Sokka scratched his head. "You, uh. You kicked. And jumped in the air."

"Anything more specific than that?" Jet raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Sokka. You're a smart kid, you should be able to figure this out."

"You jumped and kicked . . . really well?" Sokka tried hopefully.

Jet snorted. "Well I can't say you're wrong about that. But I wanted you to notice my hips, Sokka. Did you see the way they pivoted as I jumped, before the kick?"

"Oh yeah, of course!" Sokka stated confidently. "It was so obvious I didn't think you'd ask about it!"

"So you think you're ready to try the move yourself then?" Jet asked, amusement twinkling in his eye.

"What?" the younger teen asked, taken aback. "Well yeah, I can do it," he boasted, confidence filling his voice. "Watch and learn, Jet."

Sokka puffed out his chest and planted his feet firmly on the ground. A look of concentration crossed his face as he leapt into the air, his leg flailing out to the side. He stumbled slightly upon landing.

The blue-eyed teen turned to face Jet. "Well?"

"You forgot to pivot, Sokka," said Jet, smirking. "Now watch my hips. Come on, it can't be that hard to stare at this sexy ass." Jet chuckled as he patted his own backside. "Now remember. Jump, pivot, kick." He performed the move once more and turned to look at Sokka expectantly. "So? Ready to try again?"

Sokka nodded, then proceeded to leap into the air to attempt the kick once more.

"You're not pivoting," said Jet, moving directly behind the other boy. "These," he emphasized as he grabbed hold of Sokka's hips with both hands, "have to move. Now come on, pivot," he instructed, his hands guiding Sokka through the proper motion on the ground. "Yeah, there you go." He tightened his hold on the other boy's hips as he stepped forward, aligning his own hips with Sokka's as he performed the movement along with him.

He could easily feel the other teen's body heat through the thin uniform pants. Heat pooled in his crotch as he continued to move his hips in time with Sokka's.

"Yeah, that's it. Just like that," he breathed, faintly aware that what they were doing could be perceived as grinding.

Maybe he was being a just a little bit forward, but he just couldn't help himself around Sokka. The kid was just so damned hot. Too hot for his own his good, in Jet's opinion. He lowered his head, allowing his nostrils to be filled with the other boy's scent.

Inhale. Exhale.

He felt intoxicated. Excitement welled in his groin, and he felt himself harden as he pressed his crotch firmly against Sokka's backside.

"Just keep pivoting, Sokka. Yeah." Jet's eyes fell shut, pleasure licking the insides of his lower abdomen. One hand left the other teen's hip and travelled slowly, purposefully, to the waistband of the boy's pants, slipping his fingers under—

Sokka ripped himself from Jet's grasp and glared at him. "Jet, what the fuck? Stop _groping_ me! Keep your damn hands to yourself."

"Look, Sokka," Jet growled, his gaze fiery, "I've been entrusted with the task of making sure you make it on to this team. I take my responsibilities seriously, Sokka." He gripped the blue-eyed teen's shoulders with both hands, bending down slightly so that their faces were aligned. "Very seriously. If you aren't doing something right, well . . . "

"Well what, Jet?" Sokka shot back.

"I will correct your movements and touch you wherever the fuck I want," he gritted out. "You are going to make it onto this team. You're min—"

_FWHEEET!_

"All right everyone, that's enough for today," called out the instructor as he pulled the whistle from his mouth. "Practice tomorrow will follow the same format as today. Dismissed!"

Jet gave Sokka one last look before turning his back and heading towards the locker room, feeling disgruntled.

Sokka would be his. And he was prepared to do _whatever_ it took to get him.

* * *

Sokka breathed a sigh of relief. What the hell was Jet thinking, touching him that way during the middle of practice? He shook his head and stepped in line behind his hopefully-soon-to-be teammates as they filed out the door.

Just before the door shut, Sokka turned to look back into the gymnasium and noticed that Zuko was still practicing. _What dedication_, he thought as he stood still with his hand on the door knob, keeping the door from closing as he watched the older boy going over a final move with his partner.

_Zuko . . . he moves so elegantly_. After he demonstrated a technique, the teen's partner attempted to mimic his move rather clumsily, to which Zuko responded by calmly signalling with his open palm, gesturing for pause before repeating the technique more slowly.

_For someone so aloof in public, who would have guessed he could be so patient and kind in this kind of setting_, Sokka reflected, watching as the two boys stood and bowed to each other indicating the end of their session. Before he knew it, a wistful smile crept onto his face as he considered the day's practice and all the many wondrous glances he was able to catch of the fair boy throughout the session.

Suddenly, golden eyes connected with pools of blue. The brunet felt blood rush to his face when he realized he had been staring. _Shit!_ Why was he so obvious? He let go of the door to furiously rub away the blush from his cheeks. The door slammed shut with him still in the gym.

With next to no one remaining, Zuko's footsteps rang loudly through the gym as he closed the gap between the two. Sokka moved forward when the other boy was only a few steps away. For a moment they stood awkwardly before Sokka decided to break the silence.

"Hey!" he said.

"Hi."

Sokka smiled sheepishly before trying "So—"

"How was your first day of practice?" Zuko cut in.

"Oh! You know, it was good. It was fun! Challenging, but mostly good," the tanned boy's ramblings were articulated with wild gestures. "I wish—" he inhaled before continuing, "well I wish we could have paired up!" A huge goofy grin spread across Sokka's face and the corners of his cheeks appeared more pink than before.

Zuko smiled softly "Jet is a good teacher. And . . . you two seem close."

"What? Jet and me—_close_? Pfft! No, no, no. We've known each other for a while, but we're not really _close_."

He made an 'X' shape with his forearms and shook his head vigorously for emphasis. This made Zuko raise an eyebrow. Sokka noticed the other boy's expression with mild concern and wondered if he had caught a glimpse of Jet's shameless groping during practice and pressed on, eager to change the subject. "Either way. You're the better fighter! You totally had the upper hand the other day, and Jet had to _cheat_ to win!"

Sokka could tell that Zuko was trying to smile at the compliment despite the knot that formed in the raven haired boy's brow as he replied, "No . . . it was a shameful loss. I never should have let it happen."

_Eesh I forgot—sensitive topic_, thought Sokka, recalling Zuko's exchange with his sister Azula in the gym the other day. Almost involuntarily, his hand reached out and rested on the other boy's shoulder. "Hey, I don't think _anyone_ who was watching your match that day would say that. It was a cheap shot and a cheap call," he offered with a reassuring smile. "Besides, just think of it as a reason to train harder—so you can beat Jet's face into a pulp!" For emphasis, he retracted his hand and balled it into a fist to punch his other hand, visualizing what he hoped Zuko would do to Jet's visage.

"Heh. Yeah. Perhaps you're right."

"Jet is the biggest jerk in the school anyway," Sokka continued, "he always walks around with his cronies like he owns the place. Why can't he just be like you and mind his own business and be cool while he's at it?" The moment the words left his mouth, Sokka mentally slapped his palm to his forehead. _Stupid! Why are you so obvious? Don't be creepy, don't be creepy!_

Sure enough, the raven hair boy must have been wondering what Sokka meant by his last sentence because he was now giving the brunet a mildly quizzical look.

Frantically waving his arms in front of his face as if to cancel out what he had just said, the tanned boy clarified, "What I meant was—I mean, you're at the top of your class, you're the best on the martial arts team, you don't get into trouble, and you're really cool!"

The tiniest smirk tugged at the corner of Zuko's lips.

"Well, thanks. I guess. You're pretty cool too, Sokka." Already reddening from his the compliment he let slip from his mouth, the brunet's blush spread across his cheeks as he processed Zuko's words. He felt his ears get hot, a telltale sign that his flush shined clear through his tanned complexion. Hopefully the other boy wasn't very observant.

Unsure of how to continue, Sokka let out an awkward laugh and absentmindedly swung his sneakers against the glossy gymnasium floor, emitting echoes of squeaks into the air.

"I should get going." Zuko gathered his things, giving Sokka a quick pat on the back as he turned to exit the gym. At that Sokka's brow furrowed. He wasn't ready for him to leave. Not yet. After all, he had only just started talking to the guy!

"Ah, wait—Zuko! Actually, what are you doing now? I was wondering if you wanted to hang out for a bit since practice is over." Sokka watched Zuko expectantly.

"Hang . . . out?" the raven-haired boy asked, taken aback.

"Yeah, you know, we could go out for dinner, see a movie—whatever!" he grinned hard and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I—" Zuko's eyes darted to the windows of the gymnasium and then to the floor. "Well . . . I usually go home after practice, and my father's driver will be expecting me," he said, more to himself than to Sokka.

"Oh," a crestfallen look crept into his blue eyes, "well if you're busy don't worr—"

"No. It's okay. I'll just tell Azula to go home without me," Zuko smiled softly.

"Really?" The tanned boy exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement as a bright white grin spread across his face from ear to ear. "So what kind of food do you like? We could go out for sushi! I _love _unagi rolls. Or, oh! OR! There's this great new pizza shop that just opened up down the . . . "

As Sokka rambled on, the two gathered their belongings and exited the gym. However, unbeknownst to them—lurking in the shadows of the hallway and listening in on their every word—was Jet, who had left the boys' locker room some moments before. He bit down hard on his toothpick. _God! What does Sokka see in him? _Jet scowled as the pair walked through the locker room door and disappeared from sight.

_But . . . wait—_

A sudden, mischievous gleam appeared in Jet's eyes.

"_Perfect_."

* * *

**A/N:  
**Please, if you enjoyed this story or have any constructive criticism, please be sure to REVIEW! It's not like we get paid for this, so just a lil' bit of lovin' is all we're asking for. You all are the reason we came back to work on fic after all these years. :)

-Qian and Mausumi


	4. The Date

**Disclaimer:  
**We do not own _Avatar: The Last Airbender_, nor are we profiting from this fan fiction in anyway.

* * *

**Happenstance in a Prism  
****The Date  
**By Qian Mausumi

It was perfect, the plan was flawless. He'd have to flesh out more of the details later, though. Just to be safe.

"Jet!"

Jet turned at the familiar call, his characteristic half-grin, half smirk in place. His smile widened further the moment he registered who had addressed him.

"Hey, Katara. You came down all the way down to the gym to see me? I'm touched."

Katara smiled nervously and fiddled with the end of her braid. "Well . . . actually . . . I was hoping to talk to Sokka. I'm just so anxious about him! You know, it being his first practice and all . . . I just wanted to check how's he's doing. Do you know where he is?"

Jet pulled a hurt face and shook his head sadly. "You came down to see Sokka? Oh Katara, you just broke my heart. And here I thought you were excited to see me."

Katara paled.

"I—well, you know how Sokka is and—of course I'm excited to see you, Jet, don't be ridiculous!" She forced a nervous giggle, hoping her words were enough to assuage the damage she knew she had caused to Jet's psyche.

To her immense relief, he let out a hearty chuckle. "Don't worry about it, Katara. I'm just kidding around. Sokka's in the locker room, probably still getting his things together. And if it makes you feel any better, his skills are definitely above par."

Katara's face brightened. "Really? That's pretty surprising—I mean, he's tried Tai Chi before and he wasn't particularly . . . gifted at it."

Jet raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised by her statement. "Well I think Sokka is quite well-endowed with his gifts. I'm hoping that in the future, under my care, I'll be able to make his endowment grow even bigger."

Covering her mouth and giggling, Katara adjusted her gaze to look directly in her crush's eyes, "Oh Jet, you're really too kind. But if you're referring to his potential as a fighter…well, let's just say I'm not as sure of him as you are."

"I'm sure he won't disappoint."

Katara smiled as she nervously twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "Can I just say how sweet it is that you've really taken my words to heart? I only wanted you to keep an eye on him for me, but you've gone above and beyond my expectations—you really seem to have a genuine, vested interest in him. I think that's great."

"Anything for you, Katara." Jet's locked gazes with the girl before continuing. "Remember that."

Blushing profusely, Katara tore her eyes from Jet's and settled them on a point on the floor. A shy smile blossomed on her lips.

Jet replied with a grin and raised his hand to tuck a lock of loose hair behind Katara's ear.

His hand fell to cup her waist.

"And you're right, I'm very interested in Sokka—I've even volunteered to mentor him personally and oversee his training. I really want to see him improve, you know, _grow_ at my touch. And don't worry, I'm not going to leave him to his own devices or leave him to seek assistance from someone else—he'll only reach completion under me. I'm going to put a lot of time and effort into _preparing _him for coming—I mean—for _what's_ coming."

Jet paused and placed his other hand around Katara's waist, bringing her within mere millimeters of his body.

"I'm really just seeking to throw myself into him. For you, Katara."

Katara blinked up at Jet as a wave of emotion passed over her.

In a split-second, she had thrown her arms securely around Jet's torso and pressed the side of her face to his chest.

"Jet, that's . . . that's just about the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me," Katara choked out, overcome with emotion, her cheek still in contact with the firm pectoral muscles before her.

Jet gently disentangled himself from Katara and cupped the back of her head in his hand so that her face was pointed towards his. "Well, maybe you'd better get used to it."

His face hovered just an inch above hers. His eyes were half-lidded and he parted his lips to signal to Katara what was about to happen.

He tenderly pressed his lips against hers in a chaste, romantic kiss.

Katara's legs quivered and she could have melted into a puddle of happiness. Jet, Jet the stud, the Jet that all the girls swooned for had just kissed her, kissed Katara!

She was speechless.

"What do you say I take you out to dinner tonight? I'll meet you at your house at seven." Jet turned and walked towards the locker room door, pausing before opening it. He cocked his head back towards Katara.

"Don't keep me waiting."

* * *

Katara stood rooted to the spot, her brain on information overload as she attempted in vain to process what had just happened.

She had just been asked out. By a boy. Her first date, with a _boy_.

And not just any boy. She had been asked out by _Jet_.

She could have died and gone to heaven—her life was complete. Katara barely registered the appearance of her brother as the door to the boys' locker room swung open.

"Katara?" Sokka tried hesitantly after his sister failed to take notice of him.

"Katara?" he tried again, with no luck. "Earth to Kataaar—"

"WHAT?!" Katara barked, eyes widened in maniacal anger, her head turning with such force that Sokka thought it might snap off. "I mean . . . ahem . . yes, Sokka? What is it?" she offered again, the smile just a little too wide.

Sokka blinked twice before answering. _Girls._

"Umm, I- uh just wanted to tell you that you guys don't have to wait up for me today. I have plans. With umm—a friend! Yeah."

"Oh. Okay." Katara turned her head once more to gaze longingly down the hallway, eyes glazed over as thoughts of Jet filled her mind.

Sokka stared questioningly at his sister, clearly surprised that he had gotten off so easily, and without any further interrogation. "Okay. Well now that that's cleared up . . . I guess I'll see you tonight?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, tonight. Tonight . . . oh my god. _Tonight!?_ I have to go and get ready!" And with that, Katara sped down the hallway without so much as giving another glance to her brother, whose gaze followed her somewhat bemusedly.

The double doors leading to the parking lot were no match for Katara as she charged full force toward them, her body hurtling forward as she power-walked with frightening speed.

BAM!

The sound of the metal door handle leaving a dent in the school building's brick wall left Katara unfazed as her gaze settled upon Aang and Toph.

"Katara" Aang called out cheerfully, "Good to—"

"We're going."

Aang frowned, his shoulders slumping forward. "What's wr—"

"No time to explain, Aang. I just have to get ready!" Katara continued walking at a breakneck speed, forcing Toph and Aang to start jogging in order to keep up with her.

"Yo, slow down and don't get your panties in a bunch, Sugar Queen. You've forgotten about Sokka!"

"He's not coming home with us today, Toph. But you don't understand! I need to get ready!"

"For _what?_"

Katara stopped dead in her tracks as a wistful, dreamy expression came over face. "Jet."

"Jet? You mean that creeper who likes to eat wood? What does he have to do with anything?"

"Toph! He's not a creeper, he's a _hunk_! And I find his habit of holding a toothpick in his mouth to be rugged and _manly_."

"Yeah. Manly. Sure, Katara," Aang piped up, looking a bit put out.

"Oh Aang, you're just a boy. What do you know about matters of the heart? Jet—he's just so—he's such a handsome gentleman. He asked me out! On a date, a real date!"

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, too! And I'm only a year younger than you!"

"Now don't pout, Aang. You're such a sweet little guy!" Katara cooed as she pinched his cheek. "But Jet—I think . . . I think he may be the one!"

Toph rolled her eyes. "Oh boy. Well as long as you're sure, Katara. I don't know, but something about him sets off my asshole radar."

"Toph, don't be silly. He's everything but. And yes," Katara began firmly, "I'm dead sure."

* * *

"So?" questioned Jet, leaning towards Smellerbee in anticipation, "What do you think of the plan?"

"I think you're being a prick."

"Yes, well—_besides_ that," said Jet, rolling his eyes, "It's a foolproof, three-pronged approach. Partner up with Sokka for martial arts and get close to him at school. Get friendly with his _sister_ and get close to him at his house. Smart, huh?" Jet vaunted as Smellerbee sighed in frustration, "_and_—and this is the best part—show Sokka what his precious _Zuko's_ true colors are. That he's a prissy, no good little—"

"Jet," interrupted Smellerbee, "Will you listen to yourself? I get that you're into Sokka, but don't you think that you're taking things a little too far? I mean, you're taking advantage of some poor girl who everyone knows has had a crush on you for years. This isn't like you, Jet."

"Come on, Smellerbee. When have I ever led you wrong?" Jet groaned and shook his head, "Katara aside, will you at least help me bring Zukodown? I can't do it without you and the gang to help me out."

Smellerbee opened her mouth to respond, but hesitated before speaking, "Longshot and I have been talking" she began slowly, choosing her words with care, "and—and we both agree that you've been taking things a little too far lately. I mean, we've supported you in the name of our friendship, but didn't we say that we were gonna go straight now? You know, no more attacking people? We gave Zuko a concussion that day. He's not a bad kid, and—"

"_Not a bad kid?_" Jet thundered, looking outraged, "he's a conniving—"

"Look, Jet. All I want to say is that the gang and I can't back you up on these crazy schemes. Just—just find someone else to help with you with your ploys. We're out. I'm sorry." Smellerbee looked down at her lap, unable to meet Jet in the eye.

"So this is how it is, huh?" the boy began darkly, looking stony-faced as he addressed the girl in front of him. "My second-in-command usurping my power and stealing my followers from me. Typical."

"You know it's not like that," Smellerbee shot back, raising her voice for the first time, "I'd be happy to accept you back as our leader, but—not when you're acting like this."

"Acting like _what_?" he snapped. "Well, you know what? It doesn't matter. I don't need you _or_ the gang. Now if you'll excuse me, I happen to have a date that I need to get ready for." Jet got to his feet and turned his back to the girl, addressing the empty hallway that lay before him. "Unless you plan on stealing Katara from me, too."

Smellerbee sat in silence, hanging her head as Jet strode away from her. She waited for her leader—_former_ leader, she reminded herself—to proceed out of earshot before she stood up and muttered a response.

"Goodbye, Jet."

* * *

The sounds of excited chatter and clinking dishware filled the air as the boys entered the restaurant. Zuko looked around. Nothing too fancy, but by no means a hole-in-the-wall. Most of the other customers seemed to be young and seated in pairs, and the dim lighting combined with the hushed, yet jovial tone of their voices, gave it the aura of a hot spot for couples to dine out. _An extremely hot spot,_ Zuko thought—the place was packed. What if they didn't get a seat? Zuko turned to Sokka, who was already taking a peek at the menu displayed at the front, to voice his concern.

"It doesn't look like we will be getting a table any time soon," he said flatly.

"Hm? Oh! Right, I forgot. Hold on." Zuko raised an eyebrow at the boy's retreating back as Sokka left to approach the hostess. Not a moment later, the brunet gestured rapidly for Zuko to join him in front of the restaurant podium.

"Table for two?" The hostess asked with a smile and a wink. "Right this way, please."

She led them through rows of tables before seating the two by a window. After giving them their menus, and assuring them that their waiter would be over in a moment, she hurried off to return to her station at the mouth of the restaurant.

Opening his menu, Zuko said, "Wow, that was fast."

"Yeah, I know! Isn't it great?!" Sokka replied. "I put in a reservation while you were in the locker room, so we wouldn't have to wait."

"Hm. Smart."

The two sat quietly for a moment, taking in the names and ingredients of all the dishes they could order. After a while, Zuko peered over his menu to look at the tanned boy. Sokka appeared wide-eyed and excited as he read his menu, causing Zuko to chuckle at his goofy expression. This snapped Sokka out of his food-induced reverie.

"Everything looks so _good_, doesn't it?!" said Sokka excitedly.

"Yeah, it does," he replied, turning his glance back to the menu. _The specialties in particular_. Zuko's musings about the food were cut short as their waiter arrived at the table.

The waiter clapped a hand on Sokka's shoulder as he greeted the brunet, "Hey, Sokka!"

Blue eyes lit up in recognition. "Haru! I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah, I've been working here for the past six months actually," he replied. "It's a pretty decent job. Though the tips could be better. If only some older, more established couples came in here to eat instead of all the kids from our school," he sighed.

_Who is this kid?_ Zuko's eyes shot from Sokka to the waiter, eyebrow beginning to twitch in annoyance.

"Wow, is this really the place for couples to go out?" asked Sokka as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I had no idea." A faint blush crept over his tanned cheeks.

Not wanting to remain a spectator to the two boys' conversation any longer, Zuko tapped his finger against the table and cleared his throat.

"Ah! I'm sorry, Zuko," yelped the brunet. His blush spread covering his face. "This is Haru. He and I take Chemistry class together." Zuko raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement.

"Nice to meet you!" Haru enthused, "Finally, anyway. I've seen you around school a lot. You're a superb martial artist! Well, can I get you two something to drink? Sokka?"

"I'll have the Lychee Juice."

"And how about for you, Zuko." Haru smiled.

"Some, uh," he quickly scanned the menu. "Just water for me, please."

"All right, I'll just put these orders in. I'll be back soon to take your orders for dinner." Haru started to leave, but turned back to the table for a moment, glancing between Zuko and Sokka. "It's great to see that there are there guys at our school besides me who aren't interested in chasing skirt." With that he offered them a smile and sped off to attend to another table.

Zuko raised an eyebrow. "What do you think he meant by that?" he asked Sokka.

But Sokka, who appeared a curious shade of red, seemed already too absorbed in choosing his main course. "Huh? What? Who meant by what?" he replied with a flustered look on his face.

"Uh, never mind." Zuko shook his head and then sat up straighter. As he watched the tanned boy it occurred to him that this was the first time he had hung out with anyone in . . . well, _years_. He tensed and flushed at this thought. What if he did something wrong? He really wanted to get to know Sokka better, but what if he messed something up or was awkward, or . . .

Zuko abruptly cleared his throat and stood from his chair.

"I'm going to go, uh . . . wash my hands."

"Sure thing," replied Sokka with a wave of his hand, without looking up from his menu.

The pale boy rushed to the bathroom and locked the door. What was he supposed to do? It hadn't occurred to him to give much thought to how the night would pass before they had arrived at the restaurant, and now he regretted not considering it more before. He needed some time to think. He needed help. Just a little guidance to get him through the evening. So Zuko did the only thing he knew that might help calm his nerves. He dialed his Uncle.

"Hello?"

"Uncle—"

"Zuko! Where are you? I was just about to—"

"Uncle, I'm out with a friend right now, and I—"

"Oh, a friend, I see. Well when will you be finished? The café—"

"I can't work tonight because I'm going to dinner and a movie with—"

"Dinner and a movie? Really? That's great!" replied Iroh happily. "Then I will see you later tonight!"

"No, no, wait!" Flustered and annoyed, Zuko's fist slammed against the bathroom door. "Uncle, I . . . I need your _help_," he gritted out in the most agreeable tone he could muster.

Iroh's reply was much more serious this time, "What do you need help with, my nephew?"

"What do you do when you . . . hang out with a friend?"

"Oh, Zuko," he chuckled. "Just relax and be yourself! And when you get back your house, you should take a nice long bath, and reflect on your day with a nice hot cup of jasmine tea."

"But—"

"I'm proud of you, Nephew." Then he hung up.

"Argh!" growled Zuko. _Damnit. That wasn't helpful at all. Thanks, Uncle_. Zuko breathed a heavy sigh. Now what was he to do? He hadn't hung out with anyone since Aang, and that was nearly ten years ago. Besides, back then he had his mother to help facilitate that relationship. Running his fingers angrily over his scarred eye, he racked his brain for answers. Was he supposed to pay for dinner? He didn't know much about Sokka, but he knew that no matter what the boy's family's financial situation was like, it couldn't compare to that of his own family—not since his father was the Chairman/CEO of Sozin Incorporated, only the largest and most profitable oil and gas company in the nation, which had been a primary source of income for the family for _generations_. Not to mention his family's diverse portfolio of stocks, mutual funds, bonds—it was enough to make Zuko's head spin, let alone an outsider unaccustomed to such wealth.

The raven-haired boy stared into the mirror for a moment before splashing water onto his face.

_Calm down, Zuko. _He ordered himself._ Just . . . do what your gut tells you, and you'll be fine. _Yet his own efforts to reassure himself did little to quell his anxiety. Realizing how long he had spent in the bathroom, he knew he had to get back to the table or the other boy would start wondering what had become of him. So he stood up taller, and giving himself a nodding approval in the mirror, exited the bathroom.

As he approached the table he noticed that Haru was back, chatting away with Sokka. The two looked so happy and relaxed. Zuko frowned. _Why am I so nervous?_ Although he was probably overreacting, he couldn't help the knot that formed in his brow as he watched Sokka let out a hearty laugh in response to whatever Haru was saying.

His frown deepened. _He makes it look so easy. What does that guy have that _I _don't?_

The raven-haired boy quickly made his way back to his seat.

"Oh, good you're back! Have you decided what you want to order?" asked Haru.

No, of course he hadn't; he'd been too busy panicking in the bathroom over the proper social etiquette for his evening with Sokka to even think about the menu. "I need another minute," came the boy's flat reply.

"Okay, take your time. I'll be back!"

Breathing a heavy sigh, Zuko leaned back in his chair trying to relax as he decided what to eat. When he had finally chosen he looked up at Sokka only to find the other boy looking right back at him with a goofy grin on his face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What? Like what?" Sokka buried his head in his menu, a faint flush rising to his forehead. "Where's Haru? I'm starved!"

* * *

Katara's fingers twisted around each other in anticipation as she paced back and forth in the front hallway of her house. Her outfit was planned to a T, and she had styled her hair to hang loose out of its usual braid and frame her face. She glanced at the clock.

_6:55_

Only five more minutes to go. _I'm ready_, Katara told herself. Physically, at least. She had spent the greater part of an hour choosing her outfit and accessories, and another hour and a half showering, getting her hair in order, and applying some basic cosmetics. It was at times like these she wished she had a female friend to advise her. Toph barely counted; she usually threw on the first jumper in her closet that she laid her hands on, without a care as to what kind of state it was in. Honestly, if Katara didn't know any better, she would have thought that the girl was _blind_ for all the attention she paid to her own appearance. And it wasn't like _Gran-Gran_ was up-to-date on the latest fashion trends that would make men swoon before her feet. She supposed she could have asked Suki for advice, though it was likely that she was either with Sokka, or hanging out with her own friends.

But no matter—it was too late now to change clothes, or re-do her hair and make-up. She just had to calm down, and mentally prepare herself for what was possibly the most important night of her life.

Her first date. With Jet.

She almost began to hyperventilate at the thought, but forced herself to keep her pulse steady, and her breathing deep and slow.

_Focus, Katara_, she told herself. _Just go with the flow. Just like tai-chi. _

_Just like—_Katara's mind raced, and she felt as if she had just stumbled upon a major epiphany. _Tai-chi!_ Re-directing the opponent's energy against them! Well, not the opponent in this case, but the principle remained the same. She just had to channel Jet's energy back—

BZZZZ!

The doorbell—it was seven o'clock sharp! Katara bounded towards the door, pausing to take a deep breath before reaching for the handle and swinging the door open wide.

Jet appeared before her dressed smartly in a pair of snug jeans matched with a tight-fitted button down shirt. Katara's mouth went dry. Sure, Jet looked stunning on a daily basis when she passed him by in the halls, but when he modified his typical slacks and t-shirt outfit with a nicely pressed collared shirt, she felt all breath escape her. Hopefully he didn't notice the way her legs gently quaked beneath her skirt.

"Hey, Katara," Jet greeted, placing a hand on the upper part of the doorframe and leaning against it casually. "Look at you, all dolled up. You look almost as gorgeous as me."

The girl blushed at the compliment, but quickly remembered that she had to assess the situation. How was she supposed to act towards him?

_Sensual. Seductive. _

Just like Jet.

"Hey, Jet," Katara returned, struggling to keep her voice low and velvety, just like Jet's. "Well you're looking mighty fine tonight," she husked.

_Wait._ That wasn't right.

She was a girl—a woman, dammit! She couldn't just throw Jet's comments back at him, she had to channel and _re-direct_ them, make them her own! Sensual and seductive. The woman's way. Subtlety was the name of the game.

"Don't I always," smirked Jet, chuckling at Katara's antics. "Are you ready to head out?"

"Of course. Let me just grab my jacket and we can be on our way." Katara stepped away from the door, opened the coat closet, and procured a simple peacoat.

"Oh, it's not that cold. I mean—I'm more than capable of keeping you warm myself, is all I'm saying."

Katara fought back a blush, instead opting to raise her eyebrows and flash the other boy what she hoped was a seductive look. "I have no doubt about that," she said, keeping her voice cool, "but the coat should suffice for now."

_Yes. Cool, calm, collected. Don't act too interested—but not disinterested, either. That's how a real woman plays it. _

"Your loss," shrugged Jet, looking unperturbed. "So do you want to know where we're going tonight?"

"Let's keep it a surprise until we get there," Katara requested, carefully buttoning her peacoat to the top. "It's more . . . romantic that way." She stepped outside to join Jet, and shivered reflexively as a cold wind sliced across her face.

"Are you sure you don't want me to keep you warm?" Jet slung an arm around the girl's waist, fitting her snugly against his body. "Better, right? Come on, let's get moving."

With her face hidden from Jet's at that angle, Katara allowed her cheeks to color to a violent red, her breathing to quicken, and her heartbeat to pound.

_I think I'm in love._

* * *

Zuko had barely noticed when Haru brought their food to the table, and was even more surprised to find Haru clearing away their dishes after what seemed to be only moments later. Time seemed to pass quickly and conversation flowed steadily whenever he was with Sokka.

"This is really different from the dinners I have at home," Zuko admitted.

Attention perked, Sokka rested his chin on his hand, leaning into the table. "How so?"

"It's . . . a lot louder."

"Ah, s-sorry! I can shut up!" Sokka let out a sheepish laugh. "Katara always tells me I have a loud mouth."

"No, no. It's a good thing. I like it." A soft, reassuring smile tugged at Zuko's lips. "Really."

"Heh, well just let me know if you ever start getting tired of it or anything. Wouldn't want to talk your ear off!"

His usual grin back in place, Sokka continued their conversation in stride. "So what do you do for fun when you aren't at school or practicing martial arts?"

"For . . . fun?" Amber eyes stared back at Sokka, clearly puzzled.

"Yeah, you know—fun! When my dad's home he and I like to go fishing."

"I see . . . I guess I don't really do anything like that."

Sokka blinked at him from across the table. "What do you mean?"

Zuko hesitated. "Well . . . usually I just go home, I do my work, and then I go to bed. My father doesn't allow Azula and me to go out often." His brow furrowed, and feeling suddenly defensive, he added, "What else would we do, anyway? We're always busy with our martial arts practices."

"What _else_ would you do?! You could hang out with Katara, Toph, Aang and me!" exclaimed Sokka as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Yet the idea brought a frown to Zuko's face. "But I thought that Katara didn't—"

"It'll be fine! They'll all love you! It'll be a blast—trust me." For a second time that day, Sokka reached his hand over and set it firmly on Zuko's shoulder. Amber eyes searched pools of blue. Whatever the reason, that small motion made all Zuko's anxieties slowly fade into the background. He returned the gesture by placing his own hand over the one on his shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze.

"I trust you."

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but here's the bill! Take your time with it," Haru announced happily before leaving them with a wink.

At the sound of Haru's voice, the two jumped and immediately retracted their hands. Zuko felt heat rush to his face. Unsure why he felt so embarrassed, he busied himself by grabbing the check to look over the costs of their meal. Though he had only known Sokka a few short weeks, already the other boy had become the catalyst for so many new emotions bubbling up inside of him. Zuko wasn't too sure if that was something he should be worried about or not.

Yet, one look at Sokka, who was sticking his tongue out as he searched his wallet, told Zuko that it was probably worth it. After fishing out his credit card and silently handing it to a passing waiter, he smiled.

"Here's a twenty . . . " said Sokka absentmindedly as he continued to rifle through his wallet for change. He held out the bill for Zuko to take, but when the boy didn't pull it from his hands, the brunet looked up.

"Why aren't you taking it? Wait, wait hold on—what?! Did you already pay?" Wide blue eyes darted from the place where the check should have been to Zuko's face and then to Haru, returning with Zuko's credit card and receipt in hand. "But, but you—I can pay for my own share! You don't need to pay for me."

"You were taking too long." He let out a soft chuckle, amber eyes bright. "Don't worry about it, slowpoke. Let's just get to the movies."

* * *

Jet's arm was still wrapped securely around Katara's waist as the two of them made their way to the entrance of the restaurant.

"After you." Jet gestured towards the double doors of the restaurant, held open by a doorman clad in a red yukata.

"Oh, the Moon Peach Parlor?" Katara effused, "I've been _dying_ to try this place, I hear the food is really tasty!"

"Yeah, it's supposed to be one of the best in town. I've been meaning to try out their food for a while, and I thought 'who better to try it with than Katara?'"

"Table for two?" the seating hostess cut in as they made their way to the waiting area, "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yeah. The name's Jet."

"Jet—ah, here you are," she said as she spotted the name scrawled on her clipboard, "Right this way, sir. Your server will be with you in just a moment."

Jet dismissed the hostess with an acknowledging nod of the head, pulling out a chair for Katara before sitting down himself.

"Is that Katara I see?" a voice floated down from afar.

"Haru!" she exclaimed, "It's so good to see you! You work here?"

"Yup!" he responded enthusiastically as he made his way to their table. "Actually, I'll be your waiter today. It's such a coincidence—did you know your brother ate here earlier today? I actually served him too!"

"Sokka was here?" Katara asked, looking surprised, "Well, he did mention he had plans tonight. Was he here with Suki?"

"Um, no," stammered Haru, suddenly looking awkward, "No, he was with . . . someone else."

Jet's fist clenched under the table, but took care to make sure that his face remained impassive. Of course Haru was talking about Zuko. But for now, Jet could only hope that their little _date_ had gone badly.

"Anyway, I'll just give you a moment to look over the menu, and I'll come back to take your drink orders and appetizers. Nice to see, Katara! And you too . . . Jet. "

Jet caught just the barest hint of a blush on the other boy's cheeks before he drifted off to attend to another table. The kid somehow looked familiar—now that he called Jet by name, he was sure that he had seen him frequenting his martial arts matches. He was good-looking enough, but perhaps a bit too much of a pretty-boy for Jet's taste. Especially with his flowing brown hair that cascaded down to the middle of his back.

Sokka, on the other hand—now _Sokka_ was a different story altogether. Smart and spunky, someone who wasn't afraid to bite back when threatened. All lean muscle, lithe and light in his movements. The perfect package wrapped in creamy caramel skin and adorned with gemstone eyes that shone like sapphires of the most exquisite quality.

"So, Jet. Tell me more about how Sokka's doing in martial arts."

Jet smirked; it was as if Katara has been reading his mind. Well—_almost_. There was no way she would suspect all the dirty details that were currently ruling his thoughts.

"Not bad at all," he responded smoothly, "In fact, his performance has been pretty good. Though I guess he could work on building his stamina a bit. You know, so he can go longer and harder."

Katara nodded enthusiastically, "I know! When we go shopping, he refuses to carry the bags for longer than fifteen minutes because he says his arms get too tired! He's such a pushover."

"Is that so?" "Well, I guess I'd better keep that in mind when I train his hands to be doing . . . _other_ things."

Jet was playing with fire, and he knew it. Oblivious as the girl seemed to be, she was bound notice that something was amiss when the topic of Sokka arose—be it a change in Jet's tone, a heated look in his eyes—it wasn't a chance he could take, not when the stakes were so high. If he wanted to get to Sokka, he'd have to woo his sister. And if he wanted to woo Katara, he'd have to feign at least some level of interest in the girl.

"Anyway, enough about Sokka," said Jet, though he could barely keep his mind off of the blue-eyed teen, still recalling how delicious the kid's ass had felt rubbing up against his crotch during practice that afternoon. "I want to hear more about you."

"About me?"

"Of course. Why else would I have asked you out to dinner?" He eyed her neckline, more delicate than her brother's. "So? What do you do in your free time?"

"Well, I—I it's really very silly—and I'm hardly any good, but I actually like to practice tai chi."

"Tai chi?" Jet rested the knuckle of his forefinger on the sharp of his chin in a look of thoughtful appraisal. "Well that doesn't surprise me at all. I've seen the way you glide around the hallways. Your fluid, even gait practically screams your mastery of, at the very least, basic tai chi." He was laying the butter on thick, but Katara seemed to be devouring every word with a look of pure rapture. He ventured further, "I'm sure you're much better than you're letting on. Why haven't you tried joining the martial arts team before?"

Katara's eyes lit up like christmas lights. "Jet! I'm—no—I—never! I couldn't! I'd never make the team. Tai chi is just something I do for fun. And to relax, of course. I'm amazed you even noticed at all!"

"It's hard to miss," Jet lauded, at his flirtatious best. "Really."

Katara flushed a deep crimson, her gaze fixated on a crease in the tablecloth. She seemed to be at a loss for words, emotionally overwhelmed. Jet wasn't the type to feel awkward, but he wondered vaguely when the girl would overcome this hopelessly embarrassing attraction to him—not that he could blame her. Still, he supposed it was best to at least try to defuse the tension.

"So tell me more about why you like tai chi so much."

"Why I like tai chi? Well—" The girl appeared almost immediately more at ease, and proceeded to launch into an in-depth explanation of the arts, its philosophy, and mechanics.

Jet sat back and listened, impressed and surprised to observe such deep knowledge of, and dedicated passion to the art.

And as their dinner progressed through the appetizers, the entrees, and on to the dessert, it occurred to Jet that perhaps Katara wasn't _quite_ as much of a silly, shallow, and obsequious teenage girl as he had thought she was. Maybe she actually did have some depth of character, and a new fondness for Katara had accrued in him in a way he would not have anticipated at the start of the evening.

But if it boiled down to a choice between Sokka and Katara, Sokka would win hands down, every time. Besides, Jet enjoyed a challenge. Sokka was—

_I think you're being a prick._

Smellerbee's voice echoed somewhere in the back of his mind, causing Jet's thoughts to turn to himself. Was he being unfair to Katara?

His attention swept back to her free gesticulations as she excitedly recounted a story for him. A soft smile graced his features, and he shook the weighty memory from his mind. Now wasn't the time to dwell on such thoughts. For her sake and the sake of his mission, right now he had to focus on _her_. No distractions. He could ruminate over all those moral questions later.

To get Sokka, he had to get Katara first.

* * *

Sokka couldn't help but grin like an idiotic fool as he stood beside Zuko in line to buy a movie ticket.

_Is this_—_does he think of this as a date?_ Sokka wondered as he looked fondly at the other boy, who was currently preoccupied by examining the sign displaying the schedule for movie showings.

It hadn't occurred to Sokka before—he had honestly only meant to get to know Zuko better as a friend when he had asked him to hang out earlier in the day—but this turn of events wasn't exactly unwelcome.

At all.

Quite the opposite, in fact. After all, it wasn't really normal for _just_ a friend—especially one he didn't know particularly well—to just up and decide he was going to pay for your dinner, was it?

That wasn't something that _just_ a friend did, plain and simple. But someone who wanted to be a _more_ than just-a-friend kind of friend, well—that was a different story.

Did Zuko want to be _just_ a friend or more?

_More, more! _Sokka's subconscious supplied. _That face! Those lips! And those muscles..._

Sokka shook his head in exasperation. _Well I know what _I_ want. But it's want _Zuko_ wants that's the real question mark._

It wouldn't do to get ahead of himself, Sokka rationalized. After all, it was also highly likely that Zuko was simply a generous person, and that paying for Sokka's meal was merely a token of his friendship.

_A damn stupid token,_ Sokka inwardly grumbled, _one that gets you all hyped up like a kid about to be presented with huge pile of candy before his mom snatches it away._

But still, slow and steady was the way to play the game. There just wasn't enough evidence that Zuko liked him more than just a friend.

"So what movie did you want to watch?" Zuko asked as he turned to Sokka. "It says over there that Bite of the Virgin Vampire is playing in ten minutes."

_Ugh, I hate horror movies_. "Oh yeah, I heard that was supposed really scary! Uh—and good! Good and scary. Yeah." Sokka grinned sheepishly, eyeing the couple directly in front of them as they purchased tickets to the same movie.

"So you like horror movies then?"

"Y-yeah! Of course! They're my favorite! It's not like I get scared or anything. Eh heh."

"Great. I'll—"

"Welcome to Republic City Cinemas," the girl at the ticket counter cut in as the couple in front scurried off to buy snacks, "how can I help you today?"

"Two tickets to Bite of the Virgin Vampire, please," said Zuko.

"Oh, that's a great movie. Been pretty popular with couples lately!"

_Couple?_ Sokka paled. "We're n—"

"That'll be nineteen dollars and fifty cents. I'm assuming you'll be paying together? Cash or credit?"

"Credit," Zuko stated as he handed over his card.

"Zuko!" Sokka tried his best to sound appalled even as his cheeks turned pink and giddiness swelled up inside him like a helium balloon. "Come on, you paid for my dinner and now my movie ticket too? Let me get this one!" Sokka frantically shoved his hand in his pocket to fish out his wallet. "Here, take this!" he said, as he thrust a twenty dollar bill in Zuko's face.

The other boy pushed Sokka's arm away. "It's fine, don't worry about it."

"But," the blue-eyed teen protested, "you can't keep paying for everything! It's just not fair!"

"Hmm . . . well if you want, you can get the popcorn and drinks."

Sokka crossed his arms over his chest, still not completely satisfied. "All right. But I'm treating you to dinner and a movie next time, and don't you forget it!"

Zuko smiled. "Got it. No more paying for you."

"Just sign here, please. Aaand . . . you two have a great day!" the girl finished as Zuko handed the receipt back to her.

"So what do you want to drink? Soda, sports drink, water?" Sokka asked as they ambled over to the snack counter.

"Um, I'm not sure. What do you want?"

"I guess soda is fine with—Oooh! They have slushies! I love slushies! Especially the blue ones, because the make your tongue all blue!" Sokka gushed excitedly. "Or do I want the red one? Those are good too so maybe I'll—no but, they taste like medicine sometimes, so I think I'll stick with blue. Zuko?" Sokka spun his head from right to left, but the other boy was nowhere to be seen. _Where'd he get off to?_

"One large popcorn and two blue slushies, please."

The blue-eyed boy spotted Zuko at the front of the line. _How'd he get there so fast?_

Sokka jostled his way through the crowd in a vain attempt to quickly reach the other teen, but the time he got there, Zuko had already signed the receipt and was handing it back to the cashier.

The very cute, very clearly _homosexual_ cashier who was currently eyeing Zuko like a piece of meat as he chatted him up.

"Hey!" Sokka accused, "What gives? I thought we decided that I would pay for the drinks and popcorn!"

"Ooh, so this must be the reason for the two slushies," the cashier effused, batting his eyelashes at Sokka, who blanched.

"Oh, well. I guess I'm just a slow learner. My teachers tell me that a lot," Zuko said, his gaze alight with restrained mirth.

_Did Zuko just . . . crack a joke?_

"Oh ha_ha_. Funny. Except I happen to know that you're the top student in your year, Mr. Slow Learner!" Sokka sighed. "Let's just get to the theater, okay?"

"Way ahead of you," Zuko called over his shoulder, the sea of people parting in front of him.

_How does he do that?_

"Lucky you," the cashier said, winking at Sokka, "You guys are adorbs together!"

"We're n—oh, whatever!" And with that, the blue-eyed teen jostled through the crowd and sped after his . . .

. . . His _date_.

* * *

Their date had ended, and Jet, like the gentleman he was, had offered to walk Katara back to her home. They had been walking in easy silence for a while now. _What is she thinking?_ Jet couldn't help wondering. He felt nervous despite his usual brazenly confident demeanor, the palms of his hands moist against hers. _Maybe it's because I'll get to see where Sokka lives for the first time_, he reasoned.

In passing, Jet wondered if Katara would invite him inside her house as a way to prolong their parting. The thought of entering her home provoked an eruption of glee in the swell of his chest. God_damn_ he would love to end his night with the sight of Sokka's gorgeous face! Maybe even seeing him on a date with his sister would succeed in riling the other boy up a bit. He did love seeing Sokka flustered. Besides, beyond chancing the simple opportunity of seeing his crush, spending time with Sokka, and Katara, in their home could be exactly what he needed to get closer to Sokka outside of school.

But on second thought, as he took in the dreamy expression on Katara's face, Jet hoped she wouldn't be so reluctant to leave for the night. He had never been in one place with both siblings present at the same time and could not be sure that he would be able to restrain himself from shamelessly flirting with Sokka if he were home. Despite how Katara was obviously and hopelessly enamored with him, as well as the occasional space cadet, he was sure that she wouldn't prove to be so ignorant in face of the truth; then his plan would be ruined. Jet rolled his eyes. Maybe to the rest of the world he was just a hopelessly into Sokka as Katara was into him. But that would soon change. He was determined.

Finally, they had arrived at Katara's home, a quaint duplex with grey side panelling—typical housing for the average income family living in Republic City. As they walked up onto the porch, Katara gave his hand a quick squeeze, fingers laced neatly between Jet's own as they had been since they departed the Parlor. They stopped before the door, yet Katara made no motion to let herself in.

"Jet, I had a really great time tonight. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure, Katara," he said as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "We should do it again sometime."

"Yeah! I—I mean yes. I'd like that." Even in the low streetlight, the florid hue creeping onto her cheeks was distinct.

And as her arms wrapped around his neck in the first bold move she had made all evening, Jet could feel the night draw to a close as the warmth of her embrace surrounded him. To his relief, she seemed to have no intentions of inviting him inside.

Jet smirked; the first two parts of his plan were running smoothly. He was successfully inserting himself into Sokka's life both at school, and at home. Now there was just the troublesome matter of Zuko. And without the gang at Jet's disposal, taking the kid out of the picture could prove to be a difficult task. _Unless—_Jet grinned as he leaned in to kiss Katara, sliding his eyelids shut just in time to hide a mischievous gleam.

_Yes, that would definitely work._

* * *

It was halfway through the movie and the . . . the _date_ was going quite well so far, in Sokka's humble opinion. He had managed to keep from shrieking, knocking over his slushie, wetting himself, or any of the other dumb things he usually did when he watched a scary movie.

_And_ he had even managed to give Zuko's hand a few not-so-casual brushes with his own fingers when the two of them would simultaneously reach for a fistful of popcorn. Zuko hadn't seemed to mind at all, which was even better.

_Yup,_ thought Sokka, _as far as first dates go, this one's a definite success. _If he played his cards right, he might even be able to steal a kiss!

He stretched his arms overhead, intending to sling one around Zuko's shoulders—

"AAHH!" he shrieked as the virgin vampire suddenly decided to disembowel her ex-boyfriend, flailing his arms and smacking Zuko upside the head.

"Ow!" The other teen rubbed his head. "I just had a concussion a few days ago and now this? Maybe I should start wearing a helmet," he grumbled.

"Sorry!" Sokka whispered frantically, ducking his head to avoid the glares of audience members around him, "Do you need ice? Because I'm sure I can get some ice if you need it, it's probably right at the soda fountain outside and—"

"It's fine." Zuko couldn't help but smile at the other boy's genuine concern. "Really. Don't worry about it." He lay a hand atop Sokka's arm to quell the blue-eyed teen's obvious distress.

Sokka's cheeks turned pink and his heart beat faster as he felt Zuko's fingers press lightly against his skin. Quickly, before he lost the courage to do so, he removed his forearm from the other's boy's grip and instead clasped their palms so that fingers twined together.

Sokka chanced a glance at Zuko to gauge his reaction. Seeing the other boy relax into his touch after momentarily tensing, the blue-eyed teen turned back to movie, feeling somehow protected against the virgin vampire, who had now proceeded to lap up the pool of blood splurging from her ex's body.

_No_, thought Sokka as he gave the other boy's hand a light squeeze and stroked the back of his thumb with his own, _nothing can scare me now_.

* * *

The movie had ended, and Sokka was walking alongside Zuko hand-in-hand, having insisted on accompanying the golden-eyed teen to his home.

_What a strange kid_, thought Zuko as glanced over at the other boy. Was it normal for friends to hold hands? Not that he minded—in fact, he felt strangely comfortable and calm when the other boy interlaced his fingers with his own. But it was definitely something that he would have to get used to, having grown up in a family in which showing any signs of affection was equated to weakness. Simple things like hugs or even pats on the back were simply not done.

But Sokka was free with his affections—holding his hand, touching his arm—and Zuko . . . _liked_ it. It was refreshing to be with someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, who said exactly what he thought, and whose intentions were pure. It meant that Zuko didn't have to act, didn't have to repress his feelings as he did when he was with his family. Rather, he could express his emotions as he felt them.

_Sokka is a true friend_, Zuko thought. And though it was nearly ten years ago, and perhaps his memory was failing him, but he couldn't recall experiencing _quite_ so a powerful surge of feelings during his friendship with Aang. He couldn't recall his heart beating faster than normal when he had thought of Aang. He couldn't recall experiencing this strange, swooping sensation in his gut that occurred when he gazed upon Sokka.

Perhaps this was how it felt to have a deep, meaningful friendship.

"This is it," stated Zuko as they approached the back gate of his family's manor, pulling his hand away from the other boy's so he could punch in the code that would open the gates.

"That's your _house_?" Sokka gaped, "it looks like a palace!"

"It's okay, I guess," Zuko replied, shrugging. "I think I'd prefer to live in something smaller. Come on, let's go this way to the side door." _We can avoid Father or Azula spotting us_, thought Zuko, making sure to keep his face impassive.

"Well, thanks for walking me home," said Zuko as the pair reached the door. He turned around to face the other boy, his back turned to the entrance of the house. "I, uh—I had a good time today."

Sokka grinned back, slipping his slim, strong arms around Zuko, one hand gripping his upper back, and the other securely encircling his waist.

Zuko's blush deepened, momentarily unsure of what to so. Tentatively, he raised his arms and returned the embrace.

And so they stood for several long moments, Sokka's face pressed to Zuko's, each boy's heart beating fast against the other's chest. Slowly, intending to slip through the side door and retreat to his room with warm feelings in his heart, Zuko made to disengage.

"No wait . . . " Sokka murmured softly, looking up at him with a tender, endearing expression on his face.

_What is it about Sokka?_ Zuko wondered. He wouldn't let anyone else hold him like this, much less _reciprocate_ if someone ever did hold him. _But Sokka_ . . . Sokka was somehow different than the rest. Zuko looked back unflinchingly, gazing into those deep pools of crystalline blue.

And there it was again, that look in the tanned boy's face. That strange feeling that was so fleeting, that disappeared without the slightest hint of its presence. That strange feeling that Sokka wanted to, was about to . . . about to _kiss_ him.

Only this time, the feeling didn't pass.

Zuko's eyes fluttered shut as he felt the other boy's lips press lightly against his own. His mouth dropped open of its own accord, and immediately, those same lips gained more confidence in their caresses, a foreign tongue gently passed through his teeth to explore his mouth, to ripple against his own, the heady aroma of the other boy's skin, the pure, unadulterated taste of _Sokka_ and the incessant sounds of tongues lapping that filled his ears caused his head to spin, his mind was in a haze, and the sensations were just too _much_, and it all felt so _good_, until—

_What the_ hell_ am I doing?_

Zuko violently jerked his head away from Sokka's and shoved him, the point of contact between his own palm and the other boy's rib cage producing a resonating _thud!_ that strangely, caused his own chest to ache.

Sokka had rather ungracefully fallen over, his face carrying a half-shocked, half-mortified expression; the force of the blow was much greater than Zuko had meant to deliver—somehow the shock and realization of what he was doing had left him with little ability to control his own strength.

"Sorry . . . I—uh, I'm not . . . I'm not like that," Zuko stammered out as he addressed the almost mockingly serene potted plant sitting on the doorstep, his cheeks flaming and his heart beating several times faster than normal. He continued to stare almost desperately at the plant as he felt for the door handle behind him, and when his fingers had grasped the cold brass bar, he stumbled backwards and disappeared behind the solid wood of the door.

Sokka continued to sit, dazed, on the ground outside Zuko's house. His mind was numb. His heart sank with the knowledge that he had, in crude terms, fucked himself over—_royally_. In one fell, misguided swoop, he had not only ruined any chance to be with the one person who, thus far in his life, had so totally and completely captured his heart, but even more importantly, he had caused what would have proved to be a long and fruitful friendship to wither away as a mere bud.

His throat constricted and it felt as if a stone had been dropped into the pit of his stomach. Even the will to move had deserted him; he lay back against the cold brick and almost lifelessly stared at the clouds dotting the otherwise clear night sky.

* * *

**A/N:**

Hope you all enjoyed Chapter 4! :) As usual, please review! Feedback is always appreciated.

-Qian and Mausumi


	5. The Aftermath

**Disclaimer:**

We do not own _Avatar: The Last Airbender_, nor are we profiting from this fan fiction in anyway.

* * *

**Happenstance in a Prism  
****The Aftermath  
**By Qian Mausumi

"Suki!" Sokka shouted as he jogged down the school corridor. "Hey, hey—wait up!"

"Hm? Oh!" The brunette stopped and turned to face her friend. She was carrying a stack of books in her hand and looked overwhelmed by their weight. A lock of hair fell into her face as she readjusted her load. "What is it, Sokka?"

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure! Let's walk and talk; I'm headed to the library to return some books." The two fell into stride as they made their way to the school's library, Sokka wordlessly relieving Suki of half of her hardcover burden.

"So, what's up?"

"Um, wellllll. Ya know how I told you that I sorta . . ." he trailed off as he double-checked the hall for eavesdroppers, "told you that I like Zuko?"

"Mmhm, yep! All caught up on that revelation of yours, hehe."

"Yeah, so. Um. He and I hung out last Friday."

"Really?!" Sokka didn't need to look Suki in the eye to know that his best friend's eyes had grown twice the size they had been the moment before. "Omigod and you didn't _tell_ me earlier? How could you fail to keep me in the loop of this _major_ development, Sokka?!"

"Suki! I—I'm telling you now aren't I?!" He hissed. "Just listen!"

"Okay, okay. So, go on. What _happened_?" She pressed as the two of them pushed open the library's double doors.

Sokka took a deep breath as the past day's events weighed on his chest. Voice lowered just above a whisper he continued, "Well. It was going really well. Great actually. We went to dinner at the Moon Peach Parlor—"

"I bet that was _romantic—_"

"_Suki_!" He growled sharply, eliciting sideways glances from fellow students who were trying to study.

"Sorry, sorry!"

Sokka wasn't sure if Suki was apologizing to him or to their peers. But no matter. He continued. "Yeah, so dinner. Dinner was amazing. The food was great, I got to know Zuko a lot better during the course of the meal and I think he started to feel a lot more comfortable around me too. Suki, I dunno. I thought we were just hanging out, but then—then he picked up the tab."

"He paid for both of you?"

"Yeah." He breathed.

She rolled her eyes at him, "That's _definitely_ a date, Sokka. No guy would buy his male friend dinner just out of the blue! Especially if they were only just getting to know each other. If you two were best friends that might be a different story."

"Yeah, _yeah_! That's what I thought too! And then we went to the movies—we saw Bite of the Virgin Vampire."

"Uhh typical date movie, Sokka."

"_Suki_."

"Okay! Backing off the commentary!"

"Anyway . . . the movie was awful . . . but he—he held my hand and I don't know, Suki. Everything about the night just screamed _date_ even though I just meant for us to hang out."

"So what's the _problem_? I thought you liked him?"

"I do! That's the problem!"

Suki's slender eyebrows bowed in confusion. "Wait—I think I'm missing something."

"Ugh, sorry—well, after the movie I walked Zuko back to his house—his _mansion_—Suki have you ever _seen_ that place? Whatever, so since he kept giving me all those vibes like he _liked_ me too, I—"

"You . . .?"

"Suki, I, I—_kissed_ him!" he whisper-yelled, face flushed a perfect tomato-red. "And, and I thought—he seemed to—he kissed me back, but then he just shoved me away!"

"Oh, Sokka . . ." Suki sighed, "Come here . . ." Awkwardly, she managed to maneuver the books from their place in both her arms to cradle them neatly in one hand. She pulled Sokka into a tight, one-armed embrace. Blue eyes slid shut, and Sokka exhaled deeply. What a relief it was to get that off his chest. He had been thinking about that awful evening all weekend, but hadn't had anyone to confide in. He forgot how easily Suki could assuage his worries.

After some time, Sokka became more and more aware of the increasing number of eyes settling on their intimate embrace. "Suki, Sukiiii," he whispered, growing antsy as he gave his friend quick pats on the back. "I appreciate your support, but if you haven't noticed we're hugging _in the middle of the library_. People are starting to _stare_."

Just as he was about to push his friend off of his body the brunette leapt away on her own, "Ah, right! I still need to return my books! Wait here."

Sokka breathed a sigh of relief as the students began to draw their attention back to their books.

"All right, now that that's taken care of—" Suki locked arms with her friend and steered the two of them to a deserted corner of the library. "Now, Sokka. Let me just make sure I heard you correctly. Did you say he kissed you _back_?"

The blue-eyed teen looked startled. "Well—yeah, I mean his tongue—"

"His _tongue_?"

"Suki, I just told you I made out with him!"

The girl crossed her arms and shot a skeptical look at Sokka. "You did _not_ tell me you made out with him, you told me you _kissed_ him. Big difference! Was there or was there not tongue involved?"

"_Fine_, we made out! And _yes,_ there was tongue involved!" Sokka whisper-yelled back, his face going red in embarrassment.

"And for how long would you say you two made out?"

"I don't know, it wasn't like I was timing this with a stopwatch! But I guess maybe around ten seconds?"

"Ten seconds? And then he shoved you away?"

"Yeah, basically. I mean, it was totally out of the blue. One second we were making out, and it was _awesome_, and the next he pushed me to the ground and was all like 'I'm not like that'. I mean what the hell was that!?"

Suki took a deep breath and exhaled. "Okay, Sokka. Well. Here's my analysis; I want you to listen very carefully, okay?"

"Okay. . ."

Suki cupped Sokka's face in her hand and drew closer to his ear.

"HE'S GAY!" she bellowed in a deafening tone.

"SHHHH!" Several students glared at the offender as the librarian shook her head and pointed her finger disapprovingly.

"Sukiii!" yelped Sokka, clapping a hand to cover his ringing ear. "We're in the library!"

"Just trying to get my point across!" she said defensively. "He's gay! Completely and totally gay!"

"Okay, okay I got your point, but I don't _agree_ with you! Look—"

"No, Sokka. Listen to me. I'm not taking into account the fact that he paid for your dinner. And I'm not taking into account the fact that the two of you went to see a _date movie_ together. Hell, I'm not even taking into account the fact that he _held your hand_. But there's one thing I know for sure. No man can truly and honestly call himself a heterosexual when he makes out with another man for _ten whole seconds!_"

"Welll—maybe it wasn't _ten_ seconds, maybe it was five, or—Suki, if he's gay, why would he shove me to the ground and walk away like that? It doesn't make any sense."

"Sokka, don't you _get_ it? He's in the closet! He's in denial! He doesn't even _know_ that he's in the closet!"

Sokka took a deep breath and closed his eyes, wanting so much—with every ounce of his being—to believe Suki's words as truth. But he couldn't. He had already strung out his emotions for everyone to see, for _Zuko_ to see. He couldn't get back in the game and keep trying, not when he'd been shot down in such a harsh and unforgiving way. It would take more than just a few kind words of encouragement to build up his confidence again.

"Suki," he began slowly, "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't think this is going to work out for me. Zuko just—doesn't like me the same way I like—I mean, the same way I _liked_ him. It's over now."

Suki shot Sokka a sympathetic look and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "No, it's not," she said gently. "Even if neither of you are ready to pursue a romantic relationship with the other, that's okay. But promise me one thing. Promise me that the two of you will still be _friends_ after this, okay?"

"Suki, it's pointl—"

"Do you promise?" she asked, more sternly this time.

Sokka sighed in defeat.

"I promise."

* * *

It was time; phase three of the plan was about to commence. Jet quickened his pace when he spotted his target seated at the other side of the cafeteria. Soon, Jet told himself, Sokka would be his, and Zuko would no longer present a threat.

And for matters concerning Zuko, there was absolutely no one better to consult than—

"What do you want?" Azula barked sharply, affording Jet only a split-second glance of acknowledgement from her seated position at a cafeteria table. "You're blocking my light."

"I'm not here to discuss what _I_ want. I'm here to talk about what _we_ want." Jet placed both hands on the table and leaned towards the girl. "I believe that you and I have common interests."

Azula looked nonplussed and began to inspect her cuticles. "And what might those interests be?"

"Oh, it's just a little something to do with your brother, Zuko," Jet said airily, pacing in a circle around the girl.

Azula stopped examining her nails and looked up at Jet, her curiosity piqued. "Yes, it is rather unfortunate that we are related, but that's how these things are. What's it to you, anyway?"

"What's it to me?" asked Jet in mock incredulity, "Oh, believe me, this is everything to me."

Azula's eyes narrowed as she curled her hand into a fist. "Just spit it out; I don't have all day."

Jet scoffed before reluctantly obliging. "What if I said I could take him out of the running for your inheritance," he paused, gauging the girl's reaction. "What if I said that all of that power and prestige could be yours, and yours alone?"

Azula raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"Well, according to my most trusted, ahem, _sources_, your brother seems to have made an interesting _friendship_ of sorts."

"Friendship?" asked Azula sharply. "What do you mean, friendship? Zuko doesn't have any friends. What kind of friendship are you referring to?"

"Oh, you know," Jet began, adopting his irritating, airy tone once again, "The kind of friendship that would destroy the public image of the CEO of any major corporation. The kind that would cause the most damage if that CEO has built a reputation on upholding _traditional_ family values. The kind that would completely _ruin_ him if he were planning to launch a career in politics under a conservative, right-wing platform. You know, _that_ kind of friendship."

"Has Zuko gone and befriended some lower class ingrate again?" Azula rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Father's put an end to that sort of behavior before, and he can certainly do it again. Now if you don't mind, I'd like you to stop wasting my time."

Jet smirked and remained standing beside Azula, who had turned away from him in favor of the cuticles of her left hand. "Oh, but this isn't a regular kind of friend," he effused, "This is a _special_ friend. A special _male_ friend."

Azula's hand stilled, her eyes widening in surprise for just a split second before a maniacal leer crossed her face. "Oh, Father's going to _love_ this. I just know it."

"I have no doubt," Jet said, eyes gleaming with satisfaction at Azula's reaction. "But we'll need to work together to end this little tryst of his."

Azula regarded him for the first time during their conversation, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. "State your terms. And clarify your motives. What do you have against little Zuzu?"

"To business as usual, I see." Jet smirked, pleased with the prospect of their alliance. "Well I don't have anything against him, per se—it's just that he's taken something of mine. And I want it back."

"And that something is...?"

"Just that sexy-ass, lower class ingrate," Jet growled. "He's mine."

"I see."

If Azula was surprised, she didn't show it; but if one looked closely, it was possible to detect the slightest hint of disgust in the way her upper lip pulled back just the tiniest bit—like a draught of foul air had suddenly spun up her nostrils. Nevertheless, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket, and began to rapidly compose a text message as she spoke.

"We need to devise a plan of action," she stated authoritatively, like a military tactician formulating a brilliant battle strategy, "and it is absolutely essential that we retain the element of surprise on our side."

Azula clicked her phone shut and stowed it in safely in her pocket. "What we need is a small, elite team. And I know just the women for the job."

"Do you?"

Azula smirked as Mai and Ty Lee materialized behind Jet, her eyes dancing with sadistic mirth.

"Ladies, we have a mission."

* * *

"Careful!" Mai hissed, "These recording devices are really delicate, do you want to break them?"

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" squealed Ty Lee, scrambling to recover the tiny flat square, no bigger than the nail on her pinky toe, from the floor. "Were you able to get Zuko's locker combination from the school's database?"

"Of course," Mai replied nonchalantly, "the security on these computers really is pathetic."

"Great work!" effused Ty Lee. "Now all we have to do plant these on Zuko's belongings, and we're set!"

"Yeah," Mai shrugged, "I just wish Azula had explained why she's decided to spy on her own brother. _And_ spend the money on this top-notch equipment," she added as an afterthought, examining the tiny device.

"Well it's not like she's poor, is she? How do these things work, anyway?" Ty Lee had also begun to inspect the enigmatic squares, peeling off a strip of paper off of one side. "Hey, it's sticky!"

"It's just an adhesive," said Mai, rolling her eyes, "We stick them to Zuko's stuff, and they'll record sounds, which will be transmitted, received, and recorded on Azula's computer."

"Oh wow, that's really smart! Azula is quite the mastermind, isn't she?"

"An evil genius," Mai concurred, "I just wish I knew why she's targeting _Zuko_ of all people."

"Ohh," Ty Lee grinned and shot a knowing look at her companion, "I see what this is about. You're worried about him, aren't you? You know, because you liiiike hi-"

"Be quiet, Ty Lee," Mai snapped, her cheeks aglow, "I do not. Besides, Azula's our friend. And even though I don't always agree with her, I still respect her and help her whenever I can. Now here," she said, thrusting the bag of recording devices towards Ty Lee, "you start sticking one on each of his books. I'll do his gym bag and athletic wear."

The two girls worked in silence for the next few minutes, placing the devices in the most inconspicuous places they could manage. They had just finished bugging the last of Zuko's belongings before they heard sharp footsteps approaching in an adjacent hallway.

"Quick, hurry up!" whispered Mai, shoving the items back in the locker, being careful to place them as they had been before.

They had just managed to slam the locker shut, before—

"All finished, then?" Azula asked, her manner brisk. "Perfect. Nice work, ladies." A sneer blossomed upon her face, transforming her delicate features into a mask of cruelty.

"And now, to let the destruction begin."

* * *

The high, white walls of Zuko's bedroom loomed over him as he lay on his bed. At one point, he had taken comfort in the simple decor of his room. "Minimal" he had called it, designed to reduce the number of distractions that might impede his mental focus. But now . . . he found it more austere. Completely depressing.

"Ugh. I can't think." Zuko groaned and pressed a pillow over his face in frustration.

Since his outing with Sokka the past Friday, Zuko had been holing himself away in his room. Over the weekend he didn't go out; after school he didn't linger either, instead heading straight home once practice was over. It was getting harder for him to focus on anything but the events that occurred that night. Even during training, when his concentration was usually impenetrable, reflections of bright blue eyes, dusky skin, and tender, yet chapped lips flashed through his mind. All the worse was the prickly sick feeling he got whenever he felt those same blue eyes boring into his back throughout practice when he wasn't looking. And he knew he couldn't meet those eyes with his own. Not yet, anyway.

Zuko clenched and unclenched the pillow over his eyes before tossing it to the side and staring blankly at the ceiling once more. The bare walls of his room mocked him. What he would give for just a little distraction now! "I have to get out of here," he said, and he rolled off of his bed.

Shoving his phone and wallet into his pocket, he headed out the door, grabbing a jacket on the way out. It was 5:03 pm, Tuesday, and his father was busy at Sozin headquarters and wouldn't be back until later that evening. Azula was nowhere to be found. Not that Zuko cared. He was just glad he didn't run into her on his way out.

"Master Zuko," the chauffeur bowed and started for the car door. "And where will we be headed this afternoon?"

"I—" Zuko had half a mind to hop in the car as he was so accustomed to doing, but restrained himself. Somehow he didn't think that was what he needed at the moment.

"No . . . I won't be needing a ride. Thank you."

So he took off—wandered through the black gates that safeguarded the mansion, off his estate, and into the street. He wasn't sure where he was going; all he knew was that he needed to get out of that damned room—that damned _house—_to clear his head. He needed to reflect on his evening with Sokka and think, rationally, about the proper course of action to take. What _happened_ that night? How had they ended up kissing, anyway?

Calloused fingertips reached up to graze chapped lips at the memory of the boys' embrace.

"Sh-shit. Has he liked me all along?" he asked aloud. Suddenly everything made sense. All of those touches, the way Sokka leaned in as Zuko spoke, and how that blush crept onto his tanned cheeks every now and then while they were hanging out—those weren't just signs of a genuinely deep friendship. They were indications of, nudges of something more. Like a _crush_.

Zuko mentally scolded himself for not noticing before.

He kicked at the ground before walking down another block, his brain turning thoughts into knots. Having long since exited the wealthier district of the city, Zuko noticed that he no longer recognized, with absolute certainty, the area through which he wandered. Everything in this district was just a bit smaller, just a bit less magnificent, and just a bit less green. Instead of old-styled "gas lamp" street lights on every corner and wide expanses of perfectly manicured hedges lining the roads in front of well-kept manors, he now saw ordinary electric lights and sparse shrubbery that looked as if their keeper let them grow as they pleased along the roadside. Trees no longer stood wholly straight and trim, but grew without restraint, some arching over the pavement, and some meandering towards the sky.

It wasn't a bad area by any means; he just wasn't familiar with it. In passing he wondered if he was anywhere near where Sokka lived. He never did get the chance to ask.

"Sokka . . . What am I going to?" Zuko hadn't felt what it was like to have friends in _years_, but being friends with the other boy had changed that—changed _him_. A dull ache pressed into his chest and he winced at the foreign pressure. It made him think of what _Sokka's_ chest must have felt what he had knocked him to the ground.

A shiver rippled through his body. Time was ticking away, and Zuko, while the fresh air had been good for his state of mind, still hadn't sorted through his thoughts. One by one the streetlights around him switched on, signaling the oncoming nightfall. He couldn't roam around aimlessly for much longer. But . . . which way was the way back?

Zuko squinted at the street signs at the end of the way.

"Omashu Lane and White Dragon . . . Drive? _Shit_." He didn't have a clue where he was, let alone how to get home from here.

He looked to his left, then to his right. After a moment he stepped uncertainly in one direction, but kept walking to the end of the street.

"Now which way? I don't—maybe I should have taken the driver . . ."

He fumbled for his phone and scrolled down to the driver's contact information, but he hesitated. It didn't seem right. He didn't really want to be home—back in that cold, barren room. Like a prison. Zuko shook his head and immediately scrolled to a new contact and pressed call.

"Hello?"

"Uncle? It's Zuko."

"Zuko! How are you, Nephew?"

"I'm—I'm lost. Can you come get me?"

* * *

"What's troubling you, my nephew?" Uncle asked, as he gestured Zuko to take a seat upon entering his home.

Zuko heaved a sigh, unwittingly running his fingers over his scarred eye. "Uncle, what do I do if—" he swallowed hard and took another sip of the tea he clutched in his hands, "You see, I—"

"Zuko, deep breaths."

He inhaled. He exhaled.

"I have this friend who might like me as more than a friend. What do I do?"

"Ah, and do you like this friend of yours as more than a friend as well?

"I—" Zuko frowned into his tea, the creases in his brow clearly visible in the rippled reflection. "No . . . I don't."

"But you still wish to be friends?"

"Yeah. I do."

A warm laugh rolled out of Iroh's belly. "It is better to cultivate the garden daily than turn a blind eye once it gives you a fickle crop."

"What? That doesn't—"

"Nephew, the answer is very simple. There is nothing to do. Be a good friend, my nephew. Show compassion even if you do not share the same feelings of love—"

"Wait, Uncle I didn't say that my friend _loved_—"

"_Zuko. _The quieter you become the more you are able to hear." Iroh gave him a firm look. "Now, you must listen to the voice within yourself . . . and you will know what to do about your friend." He paused and smiled. "Perhaps try meditation!"

Zuko rolled his eyes in obvious skepticism. "Meditation? I don't think—"

"Yes, Zuko," Iroh reiterated, "You must clear your mind of all thoughts, seek inner peace, and the right course of action will become known to you."

"I—don't think I can do that."

"Why not? Nephew, you have to try, let your mind open—"

"I said I _can't_, okay?" Zuko exploded, going red in the face, "Because—because I can't stop thinking about him!"

A momentary silence overcame the room.

"Him?" Iroh asked, his tone gentle.

"Yes, _him_," said Zuko miserably. "We were just . . . hanging out. And then—I don't know, we were saying good-bye and then he—he _kissed_ me."

"And what did you do then?"

"I—I threw him onto the ground and walked away." Zuko hung his head in shame. "I left him out in the cold."

Iroh stroked his beard, looking thoughtful. "And how do you feel now?"

"Awful," Zuko admitted. "I think . . . I'd still like to be friends, but I don't want him to get the wrong idea. I mean, I don't—I'm not—"

"You mean you don't see men in a romantic manner?"

"Yes. Exactly," said Zuko, his face reddening once more. "Uncle," he began, his tone suddenly hopeful, "Do you think that maybe—would it be possible to . . . _change_ him?"

"Change him?" Iroh asked sharply, "What do you mean?"

"Change him so that—you know. I mean, if Azula or my _father_ ever found out I was friends with a—a—someone like _that_ . . ." Zuko trailed off, shuddering at the prospect. "I don't know what would happen."

"My nephew," Iroh began sternly, "People are not bonsai trees that you can trim and shape in any way you want. If you choose to be friends with someone, you must accept them as they are. Now, I know that our family, in generations past, has largely supported values that promote divisiveness and hate." Here, he paused, looking as though he had just taken a swig of particularly offensive tea. "But it is a new era, my nephew. And it is up to _you_ to teach the next generation to love, and to understand."

"But—how? How can I befriend someone who might jeopardize my relationship with my father?"

"You have never taken after Ozai. You have a big heart, Zuko. Find it within yourself to accept your friend for who he is, and give him the support he deserves."

"So you're saying I should go against what my father thinks is right?"

"It is more important to do what _you_ think is right. Let your conscience be your guide. Now, I must excuse myself and make arrangements for a shipment of tea that is scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning. But before I go, there is one thing I would like to ask you."

"Yes, Uncle?"

"The cafe has been a great success, and I could really use an extra pair of hands around." Iroh shot a meaningful look at his nephew. "Would you be interested in helping me out on weekends and evenings after school? I think it would a wonderful experience for you."

_A part-time job? With Uncle?_ It _would_ be an excuse to get out of the house more, and he _did_ enjoy spending time with his uncle . . .

"I'd love to, Uncle."

"Really? That's great! You can start as soon as you are ready. Good luck, my nephew." And with that, Iroh stood up and left the room, leaving Zuko to weather through the tempest of his thoughts.

A candle flickered in the corner of the room. Rising from his chair as if in a trance, Zuko seated himself cross-legged next to the burning wax, and began to meditate.

* * *

_It's the last practice before try-outs_, Sokka reminded himself for the tenth time that day. _Pull it together._ It was the last practice—and he felt like shit. Not physically, no. Physically, he was fine. It was his _mental_ state that was the real issue.

He'd managed to keep a tight lid on his emotions the past few days, focusing intensely on learning and perfecting the techniques that Jet had taught to him. Sure, whenever he looked over at Zuko during the last few practices he'd feel a momentary pang of regret, but for the most part, he had numbed himself to such distractions.

Until today.

Today, of all days—thanks to his earlier conversation with Suki—his emotional floodgates had burst open, and left him in a state far from top fighting form. Doubt crept up within him, gnawing at his insides and tugging on his heartstrings.

Why was he still participating in tryouts, anyway? Wasn't the only reason he joined to impress Zuko? Now that _that_ door had slammed shut, what was the point?

Sokka screwed his eyes shut and took in a deep breath. Jet's handsome visage floated across his consciousness—which surprised him, if only for a moment.

But it made sense. Jet had been the one pouring his heart into Sokka's training, spending a great deal of time and effort to ensure that his movements became fluid, his technique refined. And whatever the reason—and Sokka had a good idea of what that reason was—Jet had consistently demonstrated that he was emotionally invested in Sokka's success, and would do whatever it took to ensure that he made the cut.

So it made sense that Sokka still had the drive to succeed, still possessed the motivation and fierce competitive spirit necessary to beat his opponents. It was hard not to when he had someone who believed in him so intensely. He didn't want to let Jet down.

Until today.

Today, his feelings for Zuko, which he had valiantly tried to lock away these past few days, had come tumbling forth to the forefront of his mind and spilled into his heart. How could Suki possibly think that Zuko would ever want to be friends with him after Sokka had molested him like that? It had been totally inappropriate, totally—

...like _Jet_.

The realization distressed Sokka. His mind reeled—the kiss, the numerous touches—he hadn't _meant_ to make Zuko uncomfortable, he had only done what felt natural to him. But maybe, by the same token, touching and flirting with Sokka was what felt natural to Jet.

A strange sensation coursed through Sokka's chest. Maybe Jet wasn't so bad after all. Maybe he was just misunderstood, just trying to find some love in his life—just like Sokka had been doing with Zuko. And though his speech was crude and his demeanor a bit crass, deep down, Sokka knew that Jet was a good-hearted individual. _And_, Sokka ventured further, wondering with some trepidation, why had he so staunchly refused Jet's advances for so long? After all, the guy was pretty hot, and—

_Whoa, what?_ Since when had started finding other boys—_Jet_, of all people—attractive? He thought Zuko had been the exception, but now . . .

_Zuko_. Thinking about Jet had almost caused Sokka to forget how miserable he was. He sighed resignedly. If he wanted to be friends with Zuko, making the cut for the martial arts team was probably a good place to start. And if he wanted to make the cut, he had to buckle down and train . . . with Jet.

* * *

"Sokka!" Jet growled, "I've told you a thousand times already: you need to follow through more with your kicks. You're not generating enough force. Now do it again."

Jet was being hard on Sokka—he knew that. The other mentors were still focusing on basic techniques, moves which he had insisted that Sokka perfect within the first few days of practice. But the alternative—to relax, to ease the pressure off of the both of them—was unthinkable to Jet.

"I _am_ following through," Sokka gritted out, "If I follow through any more I'll fall on my face!"

"That's not going to happen. Just _trust_ me."

He wanted fiercely for Sokka to join the team, coaching the boy and drilling him on advanced techniques with an intensity that bordered on desperation. But maybe that's what Jet was. Desperate.

Desperate because he had never before, in his seventeen years, experienced so powerful an attraction, one that left him so dizzy with need that it was the least he could do to contain and prevent himself from pouncing on the unsuspecting teen.

"I do trust you, I just—"

"Less talking and more kicking. Now do it again."

Sokka complied with Jet's orders: pivoting, crouching, sweeping his leg out, and—

. . . following through.

Jet clapped a hand to Sokka's back, pleased. He rubbed and massaged the muscles he found under his palm just a _moment_ too long before snatching his hand back, as though singed.

"Again," he ordered, his resolve hardening. He couldn't afford to let his hormones get the best of him. Not today, when there was still so much to go over before the end of practice. Just a bit of focus today would pay off when Sokka made the team, which would give Jet daily opportunities to woo and seduce the other boy.

But what _was _this, this infatuation that bordered on obsession?

This past week and a half of one-on-one training had done nothing but stoke the fires of Jet's lust, causing each casual brush of bare skin upon skin to send sparks to his groin, each glimpse of rippling muscle slowly unraveling him piece by shattered piece.

Jet was going mad with desire, and was growing, with each passing day, increasingly addicted to the mere presence of Sokka; to his lithe, leanly muscled figure; to his deep azure eyes; and to his infectious upbeat attitude.

In short, Sokka had no choice but to win, if for no other reason but to preserve Jet's sanity.

"Good. But it could be better," Jet stated flatly, following two more hastily executed kicks.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Sokka incredulously. "I did _exactly _what you told me to do."

"You did—the first time. Your follow through that time was great. But the next two, not so much. Your stance wavered. You need to _focus_. What's up with you today? Usually you would have nailed those kicks."

Sokka's shoulders stiffened visibly, arm reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Jet eyed the gesture knowingly. "I—I don't know. Just having a bad day I guess."

"Well get it together!" Jet growled, "The tournament's tomorrow, and you _are_ going to make it onto this team. Understand?"

He glowered down at Sokka for a moment before his gaze softened—maybe he was being a bit harsh.

"But you know," Jet began, his tone comforting as he walked over and slung his arm around Sokka's frame, "if you ever have anything on your mind that you want to talk about—I'm here for you."

"Uh, thanks . . . Jet."

"No problem," he said, slipping behind Sokka to rub at his shoulders with firm, confident strokes. "You just need to re-_laax_."

"Jet, you really don't need to—_aahh._" Sokka gasped, as the tension in his neck began to gradually dissipate.

"Mm. You've got a great body." Jet worked his way down the other boy's spine and back up again; he was playing with fire and he knew it. If he kept this up he'd reach the point of no return—and then _no one_ would win.

"Ye-ahh," Sokka breathed, "well thanks to you, I guess. You haven't even seen how toned _ah—_my abs have gotten."

"Is that right? I guess I should get around to checking out the rest of you, huh? You know, just to make sure everything's in working order."

"_Ah,_ yeah. Maybe—_ah, _sometime."

Wait. _What_?

Was Sokka _flirting _with him?

No—it couldn't have been, Jet told himself. It was just his own hormones getting over-excited. Well whatever it was, he couldn't get distracted. Jet allowed himself one last squeeze of Sokka's muscles before tearing his hands away. But he could have _sworn_ he heard a sigh of discontent escaping the other boy's lips as he disengaged—but he forced himself to ignore it.

"Now I need you to do the move again," said Jet, more gently this time, "two more times, no mistakes."

"Okay."

Was that a blush on Sokka's cheeks, or was he just red from overexertion? Something definitely _was_ off about the other boy today, but Jet wasn't sure if that was entirely a _bad_ thing . . .

"Good. That was good." Jet nodded approvingly after Sokka had rifled out two more flawless repetitions of the move.

"Okay, now, how abou—"

_FWEEET!_

"Alright, everybody, practice is over! I hope you all got a lot done today. Rest up well for the tournament tomorrow!"

Practice was over already? They had barely gotten to drill techniques, not to mention practice sparring in a real match setting!

Jet forced himself to calm down.

Sokka was good, he told himself, hell—he probably had the tournament in the bag. While many of the other newcomers tried to compensate their slow speed with brute strength of force, he displayed nimble footwork punctuated with quick, well-timed jabs. Agility would be Sokka's key to success tomorrow. But at the same time—Jet stole a glance at Sokka's leanly defined legs as he bent over to rewrap the tape that had come loose from his feet—he lacked consistent power behind his blows and the endurance to keep up his attacks for long, both traits being telltale signs of a novice fighter. It was Jet's job to build up Sokka's defenses against an opponent who would target him for those weaknesses. After all, the vast majority of newcomers who actually made it onto the team had had at least some amount of prior martial arts training. He'd have to develop his strength and endurance, if not for tomorrow, then at least for future matches. Jet smirked. Oh, he'd work the other boy, all right. Work him hard and make him last long.

"Hey, Sokka. Wait up."

"Yeah?" Sokka had just begun to gather his things when Jet called him. He grabbed his water bottle for a drink.

"Don't pack up just yet. We still haven't sparred yet today, and I'd like to get in a few rounds before you leave to make sure you're prepared for tomorrow."

Caught mid-gulp, Sokka considered him with raised eyebrows for a moment, index finger held up in pause. He exhaled deeply and shot Jet a grin that made his heart pound against his ribcage. "Ahh, what was that?"

"You okay with staying a little while longer to practice sparring?" Jet swallowed. Hard. Maybe this exclusive practice time with Sokka would prove to be more than he could handle.

"Oh, y-yeah. Of course!"

"Right. Since we just worked on kicks, be sure to incorporate those lower body movements into this round. And don't hold back—let me have it. Now ready your stance."

Jet's eyes settled on the rise and fall of Sokka's chest as the other boy primed himself to fight. Trim and taut muscles tensed underneath his shirt, tempting Jet to peel back the layers of cloth with the tendrils of his thoughts. How many times had he undressed Sokka with his mind? Too many to count. But he had to focus. Sparring or not, he couldn't let himself be distracted for a moment or else the practice would be of little help for Sokka's training.

He let Sokka make the first move—a quick swat to Jet's right hand to distract from the evasive circular footwork Sokka employed immediately after until the two of them were practically dancing circles around each other. This was unusual. Typically Sokka jumped in with the first kick or punch landed perfectly, throwing his opponent off kilter, which instantly set the tone for the match. However, it seemed he was taking a more defensive tactic this time. _If this keeps up, he'll be a sitting duck—literally_. _Sokka needs to be the one to make the first real blow_.

"C'mon, what're you scared of? Throw a punch already!"

Jaw tight, brow furrowed, Sokka swung. Jet parried and delivered a punch of his own to Sokka's shoulder quickly moving him to on the defensive. But Sokka, as usual, used his speed to his advantage laying hook after hook on Jet's upper body, pushing _him_ back. Then suddenly, Jet was was knocked off balance, winded by a force more powerful than he anticipated coming from Sokka, but regained his stance, planting his feet firmly on the ground.

Sweat slid in rivulets down the nape of Jet's neck. It was far too early for him to be short of breath like this—a true testament to his sparring partner's improvement after only the first week of training. Jet smirked to himself. Sokka was sure to make a spot on the team, but he couldn't think about that now. Crouching down, he lunged his body at Sokka's. Strong hands grabbed sinewy biceps in a grapple. The two stared at each other in a heated lock, each struggling for dominance. Sokka was the first to break away. He moved to pivot his foot for a kick, but Jet was quicker, sliding his own foot underneath Sokka's and swiftly knocking him onto the blue mat below.

"Agh!"

"C'mon, you need to keep those feet planted on the ground. Don't leave me any room to enter," Jet smirked down at Sokka as he held out his hand to help him up. "You can't wait around for your opponent to attack you like you were doing. It builds up too much anticipation in the match—makes you look weak, and it doesn't provide you with any new information about your opponent. You learn most about your opponent and his weaknesses by _fighting_, not tiptoeing around him. But most of all, it's a _bad_ strategy for your fighting style. Let's go—another round."

"Jeez, you don't need to be so rough, you know . . ." Sokka groaned, rubbing at his back.

Jet raised his eyebrows. "I'm rough because you're still a beginner, Sokka—I'm trying to _train_ you. Do you think anyone's going to take it easy on you in the tournament tomorrow? Hell no! Besides," he paused, "you like it _rough_, don't you? You get what I'm trying to teach you, right?"

"Yeah, yeah . . . I get it. No pussyfooting."

"Exactly. Now, throw something at me." Jet readied his stance for the next round.

Sokka began with a left punch—a convincing feint, Jet knew—to his gut, before he immediately thrust his right fist towards Jet's jaw line. _Close, but no cigar_—Sokka's taped knuckles only managed to graze the side Jet's cheek as he maneuvered away, leaving Sokka stumbling forward with the trajectory of his throw. _This is it_. Seeing an opening, Jet grabbed Sokka's wrist and twisted him into submission, flinging the other boy face first onto the mat, and wrenching the arm still within his grasp upwards between Sokka's jutting shoulder blades.

"Ah! _Shit_!" cursed Sokka, eyes clamped shut in pain. With Sokka lying defenseless on the mat, Jet settled his knee atop the blue-eyed teen's lower back, Jet's own chest pressed low beside Sokka's shoulder, holding onto that same wrist all the while.

Jet leaned his head in, close enough to allow his hot breath wash over the back of Sokka's neck. "You shouldn't be letting me do this to you, Sokka," Jet breathed in the other boy's ear, becoming increasingly aware of all the places their bodies were touching. "You left yourself _wide open_." Slowly, his knee slid from its domineering position at the base of Sokka's spine, stretching back to nestle itself between his legs such that his body was flush with the other boy's.

His grip tightened around Sokka's wrist and he could hear the teen's breath catch—with pain? Or . . . _desire_?

"Or is it that you _want _me to do this to you?" Jet felt his own breath shudder past his lips as he struggled to bridle his carnal urges. Heat welled in his groin, and as his erection rose, Jet couldn't help but admire how well their two bodies fit together—their legs tangled, crotch to ass, chest to back, like lock and key. He fought against the overwhelming desire to grind into the firm globes of Sokka's ass—but failed.

Circle. Thrust. Circle.

"_Ahh._" Jet wasn't even sure who the gasp had come from; he became impossibly harder, his clothed member nestled firmly in the valley of the other boy's rear—rubbing, pressing, his mind a smoky haze, and—_ohh,_ had Sokka really just pushed his ass back against Jet's crotch?

_He's just wriggling to get free_, some remote, rational part of Jet's mind insisted.

Or was he? Jet had to know.

Feverishly, he flipped Sokka's body while keeping the boy pinned so that the two of them were face-to-face.

And crotch-to-crotch.

He ground his hips in a circular motion—was Sokka_ hard_?—forfeiting his clamp over the other boy's wrists in favor of gripping the muscular flesh of his thighs tightly with both hands.

His length met Sokka's—

—Once, twice; Sokka's eyes were closed, his back arched, _three times_, then—

_Smack!_

Sokka had managed to free an arm from underneath his body and strike Jet across the back.

"What," Sokka breathed, "are you _doing_?" he asked, not quite managing to sound angry. He was too winded. From sparring, or . . . ?

Jet still lay draped over Sokka's body, his exhaled breath tickling the side of the other boy's cheek. He engaged Sokka in a heated gaze.

"You shouldn't be letting me _do_ this to you, Sokka. You're not going to let your opponents do this tomorrow, are you?"

Jet could sense faint uneasiness in Sokka's blue eyes. Uneasiness that stemmed from anxiety over the match tomorrow, or . . . ?

The boy squirmed under the heat of Jet's gaze before he tore his eyes away, using his free forearm as leverage to shove Jet to the side and quickly scramble to his feet.

"I-I just need to work on it more," Sokka panted, doubled over with his hands resting on his knees. "But I—I think that's enough for today."

Jet got to his feet and gripped the other boy's shoulder, feeling almost, but not quite, guilty at what had just transpired. "Don't worry about it, Sokka. You're a smart kid, you'll catch on. You'll do great tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jet."

Sokka turned to leave, but not before Jet trailed his fingers from Sokka's shoulder to catch the other boy's cloth-wrapped hand in his own. Wordlessly, with the fingertips of his free hand, Jet held Sokka's chin steady and drew close to the other boy. He laid a soft kiss upon the boy's cheek, lingering for just a moment before drawing back.

Their eyes met. Sokka wore a shocked expression on his face, his cheeks an impressive shade of red. But Jet could see something else in the other boy's gaze; an emotion he could discern, but whose name, at least for the moment, escaped him. He released Sokka's hand and instead moved to grip the small of his back.

"That was for good luck," he said, feeling almost drunk, Sokka's chin still clasped in one hand.

His head felt heavy, and as if drawn forward by a magnetic force, Jet leaned in to press his lips to the other boy's, his hand snaking around from Sokka's chin to grip the back of the his neck. He held the kiss for just a moment, long enough to savor, fleetingly, the taste of salt on his tongue before pulling away—with a light nip of the other boy's lip—a fraction of an inch to look Sokka in the eye, their sweat-slicked foreheads resting against each other.

"And that was because I like you."

Sokka's eyes were shut tight, while Jet regarded him with lowered lids. But the next thing he knew, Jet was being pushed away with soft resolution. He hesitated before meeting the other boy's gaze—but when he did, he noticed with a sudden pang of shocked pleasure, that Sokka's face had taken on a deliciously cute shade of red.

"I—uh—I—" Sokka stammered, mouth agape and clearly floundering. "I just, uh, remembered—" With a backward step, he stumbled over his bag before picking it up with trembling hands. "She's waiting—Katara, I mean—" He swallowed hard, his adams apple jerking upwards momentarily only to settle back into its place. Eyes fixated on Sokka's neck, Jet rubbed a calloused hand over his own, fighting back the sudden, nervous need to swallow too. "_Shit_—" Sokka shook his head. "I just—I—I gotta go."

Sokka pushed through the doors and left, echoes of his departure bouncing off the walls of the gymnasium until they dissipated into complete silence. Jet stared at the emptiness where Sokka used to be and chuckled to himself, softly at first, but soon he was doubled over heaving a deep, roaring laugh until he all but tumbled to mats below. He had kissed Sokka. He had actually kissed—no, _more_ than just kissed—he had groped and grinded with and engaged in all sorts of delicious activities with Sokka! . . . _finally!_

As he sat on the floor, cradling his head in his propped up hand and still wearing a triumphant grin on his face, Jet couldn't help but notice the tightness in his chest or the way his heart was still pounding against his ribcage. How long had he been lusting after Sokka? How long had he been feeling so crazy, like a stupid schoolgirl with a celebrity crush? And now after all this time of pining after the boy, dropping line after _obvious_ line, he had finally succeeded in baiting his catch!

_Heh, if only he hadn't had to go meet Katara, we could've continued—_

Katara.

_Oh, fuck._ Jet let out a groan and promptly threw himself spread-eagle to the floor. He really was an ass, wasn't he? He had falsely given Katara the impression that he returned her feelings of infatuation, but in reality, he honestly had no desire to pursue anything with the girl, nice as she was. Come to think of it, she probably felt just the way he did, fixated on Sokka for all of these years, only it was he who was the prize.

This wasn't good. He felt like total douchebag. Maybe Smellerbee was right; maybe his plan had gotten carried away. Either way, he had to end things with Katara since things were definitively heating up with Sokka. But how? Break things off cut and dry? No. Jet shook his head at the thought. He couldn't do that—not after he had built her up so much after their date and a few phone calls they had exchanged in between then and now. It had to be gradual, he decided. Just let her go slowly but surely with waxing disinterest. Surely she would be able to handle the let down better if he let them simply drift apart as if it had happened naturally, right?

Jet sighed, running his fingers through his hair. What made him feel worse was that his seduction of Katara had turned out to be a completely unnecessary part of his plan. He hadn't even needed to use her to begin with—Sokka was as good as his now.

_No._

He had Sokka hooked, but now he had to reel him in. And after he reeled him in, he'd have to hold on to his prize. He'd have to step up his game and focus on the one person that did matter.

Zuko.

* * *

**A/N:  
**Thanks everyone for reading! As always, please REVIEW! It really motivates us and helps us get out the next chapter for you all to read on time. :)


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